Prodigal
by Freida Right
Summary: When 3 runs away, looking for a family who will appreciate him, what he finds seems perfect... But when he sees how wrong he was about his family, how can he even dream of forgiveness? However, love is a funny thing, indeed...
1. Prologue: My Whole World

Not entirely related to _Faith Journey _or_ Suddenly, A Star;_ but the theme is defs based on the parable of the prodigal son, from the book of Luke (Luke 15:11-32; NIV). However, in an unusual twist, this tale will be told from the father's point of view.

This will go on for several relatively short chapters. This little prologue is a whole bunch of seemingly unrelated stuff, but a lot of what happens here will build to a very clear point soon.

I swear, I had never written so many family/hurt/comfort/spiritual fics before I started writing in this fandom... On with the show.

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_Prodigal_

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It had been a few months, and everything had already changed so much. Because of the frequent rains, grass and flowers were beginning to grow here and there; it wasn't much, but it was a definite start. The sky was clearing, the thick, heavy clouds fading away to reveal an expanse of blue. Everything was brighter, clearer, bigger, and better. And it was all ours.

Half these glorious changes didn't matter to me, though. My world was already big and bright and clear, because I had a family to share it with. With family came all the frustrations and joys of having children and a wife, but it was good. So _very _good. I loved them so much, and they loved me, too. It was healing; as the days passed in a happy blur, I began to feel less and less bad about myself and all the mistakes I had made, and more excited about the things the four of us could do and be together. There was hardly any time to feel sorry about the past—not with the present flying over my head, and the future hitting me in the face every morning. There was so much to be done. Not one precious second of time with them could be wasted in misery.

In those first months, everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The twins were a particular source of joy and energy; there was so much to see and catalogue, they couldn't sit still for more than a minute at a time. I had forgotten how long they had kept themselves hidden in the library, out of obvious danger. Now that those dangers were gone, they threw themselves at the world with all their might. Watching them absorbing it all, like sponges, was so heartwarming and adorable. It never failed to make me smile.

In spite of the world changing around them, there was a new stability in our home that they latched onto: our newly established family unit. They were our children—7's and mine—and we were their parents. We would be there from then on to take care of them, and to love them. We would never leave them; they had never understood such a thing before. After a while, they stopped calling us by our names; instead, they called us mama and papa. So, to us, they were son and daughter. Nothing they catalogued brought them more joy than that.

And then, there was 7—my sweet, wonderful 7—a world unto herself. She became the last thing I saw every night before I fell asleep, and the first thing I saw every morning when I opened my eyes; and, every morning, all I could do was lie still, sort of stunned, and wonder how on earth someone like me could be blessed with anything as magical as her. But divine gifts shouldn't be questioned. So, instead, I held her close, kissed her beautiful face, and made sure that she knew how much she meant to me. I must have been telling her that I loved her at least 50 times a day; important things like love are sometimes easy to forget, and I wanted to make sure she remembered at all times. And she never got impatient or overwhelmed with me. Every "I love you" was met with a smile and an "I love you, too".

I had taken her with a promise, that she could fly as high, as far, as fast as she wanted, whenever she needed to; just as long as she came home to us at night. She needed her space and her freedom, I knew; our nest and our family wouldn't allow her that. But, suddenly, she didn't seem to mind it anymore. If she was going to fly, she wanted me to be the wind in her wings, supporting her. Me! She didn't have to do everything on her own anymore. In me, she had found someone to lean on for shelter and safety, and offer the same to, in return. Someone to love and be loved by. She had never known this before. And she chose me.

7, 3 and 4: they were my whole world. Everything else around us was just extra, to be enjoyed at my pleasure; but my love for them was unchanging, and immovable. I couldn't imagine how my world could be any bigger or _any_ better than them.

And then, seemingly without cause, 7 began to change again. She suddenly became antsy and impatient, but excited about something. She was always singing to herself, making up little songs and humming them wherever she went. She kept wandering away to browse the ruins for screws, nuts, wires—building materials. She had never felt particularly inclined to build things; what could she be making? Any time I tried to ask, she would shake her head and giggle girlishly, insisting that it was a surprise.

I could respect her privacy, but... _what was she up to?_

Then, one evening after a week or two of this oddness, she pulled me aside and took me to the space I used for a work room. There were building materials and tools, and anything else I could think of we might need to fix anything. She had already been in and out of all these things many times, and had taken several findings. However, as we entered the room, a pile of all her collected findings sat in a frustrated heap on my work bench. In the better light, I also noticed that her shape was different, fuller, as if she had a great many more findings still hidden within.

"I had tried to do this on my own," she said sadly, "but I'm not good enough."

I looked over her findings, wondering what contraption would call for them. Tiny screws? Metal poles? Copper wires? Scraps of charcoal-colored cloth? I had no clue what she was trying to make with these apparent odds and ends. I looked back up at her, confused.

"I don't understand," I said. "What have you been making?"

In response, she took my hand and pressed it against her belly. She was certainly keeping something large and very dense hidden inside her body cavity. Large enough to make her look bigger, but still very light. On the other side of her milky white skin, all I could feel was a vague shape with no direction to it; but it somehow felt full of promise. She looked back up at me with a nervous smile, her eyes shining proudly.

"9... I'm making a baby."

I still wonder what a human father thinks of first, when he's told his wife is having a baby. Were my thoughts anything like that? I remember being unable to think at all for a split second, completely stunned. My wife was having a baby! She was _making _the baby, and carrying it right now! I had no idea what I was supposed to think. In the next split second, all the pieces clicked into place in my paralyzed brain: the pile of findings on the table, the vague little shape swelling her body—it was our child in embryo. She had done all of this on her own so far. But she couldn't finish it alone. She needed my help.

I was speechless, and my legs felt weak, but I finally knew what to think: this was absolutely wonderful, and I was so happy I was ready to weep. I fell to my knees before her, my shaking hands on either side of her waist, and rested my spinning head against her belly, where the beginnings of our child sat in safety. There was no life in whatever she had made so far, but it felt solid and powerful, all the same. She put her arms around me and held me close to her body, thrilled and perhaps relieved that I was so excited.

"I don't deserve this," I said finally, hardly able to speak, still.

"Then who deserves anything?" She asked gently, her voice nothing but a smile. She glowed so brightly, like the moon itself, pale and silvery in the light. I nuzzled her soft skin, and I felt the little shape press against my face; my heart leaped, and I couldn't help the sob the choked my throat.

"I love you—both of you," I whispered, softly kissing her where I had felt our baby. I gazed back up at her, so proud and so enchanted. She was everything to me; but she was suddenly so much more. She really was the mother of my child. My moment of weakness ended as suddenly as it had swept over me, and I rose again, wishing we could begin that very night.

"7, of course I'll help you," I said, pulling her close, holding her as tight as I could. "Of course I'll help you!"

"I knew I could count on you," she answered with a merry laugh, snuggling closer to me. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Just like that, my world became much bigger.

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Author's Notes...

Now the stage is set. Starting next chapter, you will begin to see why the name of this story is _Prodigal_. ;)


	2. Chapter 1: In Pieces

Chapter 1: In Pieces

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7 had already done close to half the work on her own. The various separate pieces of our child's skin had already been measured, cut out, and sewn together by her careful, loving hand. The cloth she had chosen was soft, dark, ashy gray, held together with black thread. It looked nothing like either one of us, but I liked it; our little one would be a total original, a free spirit. At that point, the skin was almost complete, missing only a few small details she felt that age and gender would determine. In the meantime, she kept the small bundle safe in her body cavity, where no harm could befall it.

She had already collected most of the findings we needed to build the skeleton, eyes, hands and feet. I looked at her pile of findings with excitement and energy, ready to jump in and put our child together. I could see the screws, the steel poles, and tangles of wires in pieces on my work table, and see in my mind how they would fit together into one working thing—a skeleton with flexible joints, fingers that wiggled, eyes that could blink. All the small, wonderful parts that no one would see from the outside, but would enable this child to move and sense the world.

But 7 looked at the same pile of findings and saw a meaningless heap of metal, items from a list she had dutifully searched for. Now that she had them, she had no idea how they were supposed to fit together. It daunted her beyond imagination. But that's what she had _me _for, now. I would guide her through the steps, and we would build the rest of our baby together.

As we began to craft the frame out of the steel poles, we also discussed the finer points of what our baby would be like. Thinking of it as a "baby" was actually inaccurate; the skin 7 had sewn and the framework we were building were big enough to be a small child. Smaller than the twins, but too big to be a baby. We agreed that our child would be five or six years old; the age was convenient, allowing the child to act on its own, without constant supervision, and perhaps providing a little company for our other children. Also, it managed to honor our brothers, in a small but meaningful way. Our brothers had meant to much to us; surely, 3 would appreciate having a brother of his own, and 4 would be thrilled not to be the littlest anymore.

I asked her whether she wanted our child to be a boy or a girl, sort of on the fence, myself, sure that whichever she chose would be great. She had been thinking hard about it, aware that she could only choose once, concerned with making the right choice. However, something in her heart longed to give me a son, for deep-seated feminine reasons she couldn't fully explain. That was fine with me. I would have loved a little girl just as much, just as unconditionally, the same as I loved the rest of my family. But, at the same time, knowing that the child we made together would be a son—_our _son-made the whole thing seem bigger, somehow. That decision reached, she stitched three tiny buttons down his chest, all dark green in color. She also mentioned that, if we had chosen to make a girl, she had found a few buttons in bright pink that would have been perfect.

The idea made me smile, and for a moment I wished we were making a girl, after all. She would have been so cute, with her pink buttons...

Finally, we had to decide on his name. The first number that came to my mind was the number 10; it was the next number after me, and we had all been named in chronological order, before. It had seemed obvious, at first. 7 considered this, but then shook her head.

"10 does come next, I suppose..." she said slowly. "But we should name him 0, I think."

"Why 0?" I asked.

With a sad sort of sigh, she explained, "2 once said that people always start counting at one, but zero comes first, so we should start counting _there. _You can't have 10 if you don't bother counting zero, first. And, well, we never had a 0, so we can't really have a 10."

It was unlike 7 to be quite so deep, but it was also unlike her to try and build things all on her own. Her reasoning was beautiful as well as logical. That was that, then. Our son's name was 0. And, like the rest of us, he would carry his number-name in black ink on his back, between his shoulders.

Every evening, we would go alone to the work room, and she would take unfinished 0 out of herself for more work. Over many nights, his skeleton was completed and fixed into his skin, giving him a real shape. For his eyes, we found small shards of green-colored glass, which we carefully sanded into small circles for the lenses; he would be the first of us have an eye color. We also built his feet with the benefit of toes, set into the foot on a hinge, like ours. I carved his wooden hands myself, like our creator had done for me; it was the perfect combination of my oaken palms and 7's pine fingers, and it filled me with pride.

The end of each evening found 0 a little fuller, a little closer to being complete. When our night's work was done, she would carefully bundle him back up and replace him inside her, safe for the rest of the night and the coming day. As the weeks went on like this, and he became bigger and heavier with wood and metal, he filled out her belly more and more; I was certain that soon, he wouldn't fit anymore. I often offered to take a turn carrying him, but she would patiently and happily decline, insisting that this was a job for a mother. While I could respect that, it also worried me. The heavier he grew, the faster she tired as she carried him, and the slower she had to pace herself. But she took it in stride, more than willing to endure a little hardship for the sake of our unborn child.

Of course, there was no way to hide her change in shape from the sharp-eyed twins. 0 was nearly finished when 4 finally couldn't stand her curiosity anymore, and had to ask.

_"Mama, you're getting so big," _she pointed out as politely as she could._ "What are you hiding in there? A baby, or something?"_

In retrospect, we probably should have told them about 0 much earlier. Oh well. Now that they were onto us, we decided that it was time to tell them the truth. One evening, instead of working on him, we sat down with 3 and 4, and told them the news: they would have a little brother, soon.

4's whole face lit up, her eyes wide, and her grin as brighf as a star. With an excited sputter of flickers, she ran up and hugged us both.

_"I knew it! I just __knew__ you were having a baby! I'm so excited! Tell me everything—what's his name? How old is he gonna be? What does he look like? When will he be born? I can't believe I'm not gonna be the baby anymore! This is so __great__!"_

She was flickering so fast, we could barely understand what she was saying. 7 hushed her with a smile of her own and pulled her down into her lap, snuggling her close.

"This is okay, then?" She asked with a laugh.

_"Yes! This is amazing!" _4 agreed right away._ "Mama, can I please feel your tummy?"_

"Of course," 7 answered, taking her small hand and holding it against her skin. "If you feel right here, that's his head. Amazing, isn't it?"

_"Oooh..." _Awestruck, she laid her ear beside her hand and just listened for a moment.

_"Hi, little brother. It's me, 4, your big sister. ...I don't hear anything in there, mama. Is he broken?"_

"No, no, not broken. Just not ready, yet."

_"Ah..."_

She was so excited... But 3's reaction was very different. He stood still, kind of apart from the rest of us, with a doubtful sort of look on his face. While his twin continued to ask questions about the baby, I stood up and went to him, wondering why he looked so unhappy, and gave him a warm hug.

"What's the matter, my son? We're making you a brother of your own; aren't you excited?"

_"I didn't really want a brother. I liked things just fine, with the four of us."_

"Well, now it's going to be the five of us. We'll still be the same family, and your mama and I will still love you exactly the same as before. Nothing's really changing."

_"Then why are you changing them at all? I don't want a brother! Can't you stop making him now, and we can go back to the way things were?"_

He sounded so frantic, and so... angry. I couldn't understand why he was so upset. Actually, after all the time, work, and pure love I had poured into 0, the idea of casting him aside so easily made me a little cross.

"We can't just stop making him now. He'll be done in a week or two. And, when he is, we're bringing him to life."

3 looked up at me, confused. _"How will you do that?"_

I hesitated. They didn't need to know the details of that discussion, but...

"With the Source," I answered plainly. 3 processed that, and quickly came to a conclusion.

_"You're gonna give him a part of yourself."_

"A part of myself, and a part of 7. We've already decided on this," I clarified.

_"So... he's really gonna be, like... your kid, huh? He's __really__ your baby, and you're __really__ his mama and papa."_

"You and your sister are really our babies, too, and we're still really your parents."

_"But you made him, all yourself. He's... more," _3 insisted defensively.

"...Yes, maybe we made him, ourselves; but that doesn't make him any more important than you. We love you both so much, there isn't a word for it. And we'll love your brother just the same—no more than you, but certainly no less. That's what parents are for."

3 sighed sadly, and his head dropped with a dismal thump onto my shoulder.

_"Why did you have to make him a __boy__? Why couldn't he have been a girl?"_

There were only a few ways to take that comment. He was jealous? Did he feel threatened in a way he would have been, if 0 had been destined to be a sister? It was far too late now to completely change him; but I was suddenly worried about my son—both of them. I could sense a great deal of darkness in 3, lurking just beneath his surface, which had never been there before. It was so troubling to me. Was there anything I could do to talk a little sense into him?

But I couldn't believe that one of my own children could intentionally do harm to the others. Whatever was bothering 3, it would pass when 0 really became part of the big picture. Once he saw his little brother, he would love him just as much as the rest of us did... wouldn't he?


	3. Chapter 2: Love of a Father

Chapter 2: Love Of A Father

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After we told the twins about 0, we couldn't keep them out of our business. 4 was so excited, she looked like she would jump out of her skin. To keep her self-control, she spent her time crafting small toys for him to play with. Being happiest among books, they had never really bothered playing with toys; but 0 was going to be so little, she got the feeling he wouldn't appreciate books much right away. Meanwhile, her brother spent his time being very concerned about 7's health. I had stopped being overly worried about her change in mood and energy, knowing thay it was only due to the extra wieght she insisted on carrying. Also, I was watching her carefully at all times to make sure she wasn't being hurt. No, she was fine, and most of all, happy.

I understood her change in mood quite plainly, for what it was. But it was a sudden change from what had become a comfortable normal, and it was making 3 very upset.

_"Are you sure he isn't hurting her?"_ He asked me one day. _"He's slowing her down so much, and she hates being held back. I know her—she should be super mad right now."_

"You're not the only one who knows her," I pointed out. "She isn't in any pain, I promise. She's just a little tired, is all. That won't last forever; when 0 is born, and doesn't have to be stuck inside her anymore, she'll be just fine, the way she was before—strong, fast, and serious, the way we know her."

3 crossed his arms and frowned. _"It's all __his __fault this is happening to mama. All of its his fault."_

"...That's a very mean way to look at it," I replied slowly, taken aback. "You have to understand something, 3, we wanted this. We knew that things like this would happen, but we didn't mind. When you _really_ want something this big so badly, momentary discomforts, they don't matter anymore."

_"I didn't want this. I wanted to live happily ever after with just you and mama and 4."_

"Well, I'm sorry we didn't consider that when we started making _our_ baby."

_"I knew it! You see? He is more special than us! I knew you cared more about him!""_

"Is there _no _way to explain this to you, so that you won't get upset?"

_"...No."_

This was disturbing and very distressing. 0 would be complete in a day or two, and we were going to animate him as soon as possible. 3 was so angry now, before 0 was even alive; the way he might act when his brother was actually home worried me. It hurt like a knife in my heart that I had to worry at all about something so ridiculous. I didn't want to bring my son into the world, and return home to protect him from my other son.

"3, listen to me," I said, taking his little hands in mine. "No one is allowed to hurt my children, and that includes my _other_ children. You can feel any way you want about this; feel your feelings all the way through, scream and cry if you have to. But you _may not_ hurt your brother when he gets here. You may not be mean to him, either; he hasn't done anything to you but dare to be alive, and he doesn't deserve whatever this is. If you're bad to him... I don't know what I'm going to do to you."

For a moment, he looked frightened, at least. But then he frowned again and asked, _"What about 4?"_

"Oh, I'll make sure she knows, too. I'm just more concerned that _you _know."

And that was the end of it. He didn't complain anymore, but he certainly didn't cheer up, either.

Sure enough, only a few days later, our building was complete. 0's shape was finished. He looked so completely different from the rest of us, and just like us at the same time. Every piece of him had been measured and placed exactly. We had put so much effort into him, and the hardest part was still to come. There was no life in his little body yet; we would have to supply that as well. In the morning, 7 and I would journey back to the first room, where most of the equipment still sat dormant, and give our child life—a small piece of my soul, and a small piece of hers.

Surely, 0 would be perfect.

That night, before bundling him up inside for the last time, she held his finished, lifeless form close, and gently rocked him back and forth.

"9, what if doesn't work, tomorrow?" She asked. "What will we do?"

"Of course it's going to work," I assured her, wrapping my arms around them. "It worked on us, and it _will_ work on 0."

She sighed, satisfied, and just gazed at it his face with a loving, motherly smile.

"He's so beautiful... I feel so loved."

"You're surrounded by it," I answered, gently kissing her neck. She laughed softly, and then her smile suddenly faded.

"Why is 3 so mad at us?" She wondered.

"I'm not sure. He's just got a lot on his mind, I think." I wondered, myself, at all the troubles were bouncing around in his head.

She sighed again, sort of sadly, and shook her head. "He has no idea what this means to the rest of us. I don't know if he could ever understand like you and I do. I don't know if any of them could. They're only children; they'll never know what it's like to give life in this way."

She had an excellent point. They could read as many medical texts as they wanted, and watch the two of us raise them for the rest of their lives; but 7 and her motherly wisdom were right. Even 0, our own personal creation, would never be able to fully grasp how much we loved them, and they would never know for themselves what it meant to love a child the way we did.

Love. Such an odd thing, it occurred to me. Such a complicated and human emotion. It was multi-faceted, with many faces and many ways it could manifest itself. I felt like we were all just beginning to know what it really was. Had he expected or even meant for us to experience it? We certainly expected 0 to, in his life. Had he loved us at all?

"His frustration will pass, I'm sure of it," she mused, caressing 0's face. "When we bring 0 home tomorrow, 3 will love him just as much as the rest of us do. I know it."

I smiled, comforted by her hope, and held them a little closer.

"Surely... Surely he will."

The next morning, we rose early and started off on our own. We travelled light—the only two things we took with us were 0, still safe inside his mother, and the all-powerful Source, safe inside me. We weren't going very far, only a few blocks away, roughly an hour's walk. Still, it was a lot of effort for 7. 0 was so big and heavy, now, and she tired so quickly and so often, I couldn't help but be a little alarmed. I was _this _close to making her let me carry him the rest of the way. But she insisted that she was okay, that it was merely our heavy child weighing her down, and she wasn't used to this much work while carrying such a heavy load.

"Besides, this is a mother's work. I have to do this, myself," she said, though she was breathing hard and looked dizzy. Given what would happen later, I should have stood my ground and taken 0 the rest of the way. But she was so adamant, and it meant so much to her. I let her go on, after all; but she leaned heavily against me for the remainder of the journey.

And then we reached the dilapidated house, and we remembered: the equipment we needed was all the way up on the third floor. That was a lot of stairs. 7 took one look at the height, and looked like she might begin to cry. At last, she agreed to let me take 0 up the stairs. I happily traded the Source for my son.

It was a first for both of us: I had never carried 0 anywhere before, and she had never even touched the Source. It was sort of beautiful, in its way. I hadn't quite realized how heavy he had become; I could carry him up the three flights of stairs in my arms, no problem. But to have lived for nine weeks with him stuffed inside me? It was an unusual weight that seemed impossible to quite get used to. Yet 7 had done so willingly, happily, never complaining, proud that she could do this. I was so amazed. As we climbed the stairs, I couldn't help but admire her.

The walk had exhausted her, and she still needed my help getting up the stairs; but she admitted she felt better, and we moved much faster. She didn't like the place on the best of days, and she was so tired; what we both wanted more than anything else was to be done with our business here as quickly as possible, so our little one would be alive, and we could return home.

It had been months since we had been in the first room, but it was exactly as we had left it. It was dusty and dark, illuminated by sunlight. We had taken blueprints home with us, but left unimportant papers behind; these had been blown about the room by drafts from the open window. Even now, the wind rattled through the shutters and stirred every lose paper on the floor.

It was kind of amazing those shutters were still attached to the wall...

"I never really liked this house, even before the war," 7 commented, leaning against me for comfort. "It never feels like coming home."

I agreed mightily with that. Every single one of us was born here, in this very room, and 0 would be no exception. This was even the room where I had asked 7 to be my wife, those several short months ago. This poor, sad space had probably never seen a happier moment than when she agreed. But today, even though it would see a new life created for the first time in years... For goodness sake, there was still a corpse decaying on the floor. We had covered it respectfully with a sheet before we had left, unable to do much else about it. But it still didn't feel like enough.

Those months had flown by like a dream. But our last visit to this place seemed so pleasantly far away.

Willing ourselves not to look at the covered human body in the middle of the floor, we walked slowly and quietly across the floor, and climbed up to the desktop. The other things we needed were still there and still intact. The amplifier was covered in cobwebs, and rusting a little, but it would do its job—to hold our child steady while we transmuted our life into him. The mask hung upside down from the edge of the desk, also covered by dirty, dusty film. The cable sprawled limp like a snake across the desk, a few spots of rust flecking it here and there.

And we had the Source with us. We had everything we needed, so we put everything in place, quickly and quietly. I took charge of the more involved and graphic task—hanging 0 from the amplifier, and hooking the cable to his inner workings. I had been the last to hang there, trapped in hyper-sleep for five long years before waking, alone and confused. But not my 0. No, he would wake to a mother and father who loved him, and would take care of him, and spare him the horrifying pains they had been through.

While I did this, 7 stood the mask back up and started a stack of books in front of it, so that we could reasonably stand in front of it. However, she was still very weak; I finished my work long before she did, and so helped her finish hers. Standing on top of the stack, the two of us fit perfectly within the mask's outline, the size and width of a human face.

Finally, the most difficult part remained. The Source had to be placed in its setting, between us and our child. Warning 7 not to stand within the mask, it took the thing and carefully, cautiously set it, myself. It hummed its chiming, metallic hum, and suddenly burst open, making me jump back. I couldn't believe I had forgotten how dangerous it was. It dawned on me for the first time, what if it didn't just take a piece from each of us? What if it drained and killed us, and crammed both our souls into 0? What would happen, then? What would he do without us? What would the twins do? Would they ever even know what had happened? The idea was terrifying to me. The risk of dying and leaving our children alone in the world... Why hadn't we considered this before? Nothing could really be worth that risk. I suddenly wanted to forget this whole plan.

But... No. Something settled over me and said that everything was going to work out. I looked up at the amplifier, where my son hung by his wrists, waiting for life. The risk was worth it again, if it meant a new life would be gained from it. 0 was my son, as easily as 3, as easily as 4 was my daughter, or 7 was my beloved wife. I would have laid down my own life for theirs in an instant. 0 was no different from any of them. If my life was what it would take for him to live, I would give it gladly.

I climbed back up on top of the books and stood just outside of the mask, and she stood wearily on the other side, looking nervously over the whole setup. She looked back at me, so tired and worried. She must have been in silent, invisible tears.

"What if it doesn't work?" She whispered desperately.

I smiled, and held out my hand to her. "It's going to work. Trust me."

She took my hand and held it weakly, almost completely out of steam. We stepped together into the face of the mask, each of us looking through one of the eye holes. As if sensing life presenting itself to be transmuted, the Source crackled with energy and powered up. Another shock of fear went right through me. So many things could go wrong...

"I love you, 9."

I gave her shaking hand a squeeze, terrified that I would never see her again.

"I love you, 7."

Raw, heavy energy suddenly hit us both, without further warning. It felt like I had run into a brick wall, or maybe like a brick wall had run into me. I felt it tugging gently at the very deepest part of me, a part that wasn't even contained in a part. I had braced myself for tremendous pain, expecting to feel my soul ripped to shreds, and then feel some of those shreds yanked indifferently out of me. Instead, it felt sort of like water, flowing easy and free, from me, into the Source, and straight into 0. Freely given, not blindly stolen.

It lasted mere seconds. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended. The world spun around me, and I could feel myself falling, falling, falling. Everything went black.


	4. Chapter 3: Birth Pains

The perfect chapter for Valentine's Day, I think! ;)

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Chapter 3: Birth Pains

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I had no idea how long I had been unconscious. As I opened my eyes, all I could remember was falling. I had landed on the floor in front of the desk, flat on my face; my head was throbbing from the fall, and I ached to my very core. It did, in fact, feel as though a significant piece of myself was gone—just plain gone. But I couldn't tell which piece was missing. It was painful, in the most unusual way.

As I struggled to sit up, I found 7 on the floor beside me, also unconscious, but breathing. Her breathing was steady, but slow and weak. I couldn't help but be frightened; the journey had drained her so badly, and I was in plenty of pain, myself, from the Source. All of this, plus the three-foot drop from the desktop... Nothing else dared to be on my mind, not even what had brought us here in the first place. Careful of the pain jolting through my chest, I crept to her side and shook her gently, begging her to wake up.

Slowly, her eyes flickered open a little. She smiled weakly, so unlike the strong, lively 7 I knew. How could this have happened to her? But that smile; did she mind the pain at all? She grabbed my arm, her grip like a fish, and took a deep breath to manage a few words.

"9... Where's my baby...?"

0. He was still up there on the desktop, hanging from the amplifier. I had to climb back up and get him. The pain didn't seem quite as bad anymore; it couldn't stop me from retrieving my son.

"I'll bring him. It's okay," I assured her, leaving a kiss on her forehead before rising, slowly and carefully to my feet. The very act of moving around seemed to lessen the pain. The few steps to the desk dulled the sharp throbbing; as I began to climb, the dullness faded quickly. By the time I got back on the desktop, it was practically gone. All that was left of it was obvious fatigue that I didn't mind in the least. I wondered if 7 could recover as easily as I just had, but she seemed too tired to move at all on her own. Was there nothing I could do about it?

I could get 0, bring him down to her, let her see him and hold him. That would help, I knew. As I walked across the desk, I took out a knife, to cut him down from the amplifier; it was the only other thing I had taken with me. I stopped halfway, noticing that the Source had fallen from its setting while we hadn't been looking. I picked it up and put it back inside, safe behind my zipper, once again.

I climbed back up on the amplifier and started to cut 0 free. And I noticed at once that he was breathing. He had no lungs, and didn't need oxygen to survive, but he was breathing. Relief swept over me. He was alive! The transmutation had worked. As the strings were cut, he fell heavily into my arms, and I cast the knife to one side before it accidentally cut him. Lastly, I unhooked the cable from his wiring, and it slipped back to the desktop with a metallic thump. I buttoned his front closed, and untied the remaining string from his wrists, but he barely stirred. He just went on breathing calmly and surely.

He was finally complete. He was alive and free. Thank goodness...

I didn't pause for very long; his mother needed him. Holding 0 tight, and completely forgetting about the knife, I hopped down from the amplifier and walked to the edge of the desk. Three feet was a considerable drop, but there was no other way to get down while my hands were so full. And, besides, I had been practicing controlled drops like this, specifically for moments like these; 7 always made it look easy, and I was determined to learn, too. I jumped down and landed solidly on my feet with a loud, inevitable thud. Shifting 0's whole self into one arm, I fell to the floor beside 7, sort of scooping her up in my other arm and pulling her close to me.

She opened her eyes a little and gave me that same weak yet somehow satisfied smile, simply happy that I was with her. I smiled back, glad to be the bearer of good news.

"I brought you something," I said quietly, looking at the gray bundle in my other arm. Her eyes went wide and she gasped in wonder, the most animated I had seen her all day. Suddenly much stronger, she held out her arms to take him; carefully, I slid him into her arms, and she cuddled him to her chest. As he continued to sleep, his wooden hand reached up, feeling around for something solid to grab onto, finally finding the catch over her heart. She gently placed her hand over his, beginning to cry.

"Oh, my 0..." she whispered tearfully, kissing his soft face. "We did it... I can't believe it."

I held her closer and nuzzled her face, the strong, comforting guardian I had promised I would be when she was weak. I had made that promise in this very room, less than half a year ago; I had been more than willing to live up to it, but never really prepared to face it. She was so weak, but so very happy. So unlike herself. In spite of that, I was happy, as well. Proud, also.

"You were right, my love—he is beautiful. He's perfect."

She sighed contentedly and let her head rest wearily against my shoulder. "Nine long weeks, and a whole day of hard labor," she mused quietly, thoughtfully stroking our baby's face. For the first time all day, she grinned a bright, strong smile.

"Worth it. _So_ worth it."

Labor. The twins had mentioned something about labor a few weeks ago, trying to explain the idea of human birth. For human women, carrying a baby inside wasn't as simple as it had been for 7, who could have taken 0 out at any time she pleased—perhaps, the fact that she hadn't meant that she really cared. Whenever a human baby is born, the mother has to push it out of her; but it is born with life and a soul already in it. The twins had said this is called birth, and the process of birth is appropriately called labor. They had described it as being intense, painful, and very scary. But the result is a baby, a whole new person with independent life.

7 had had to endure no such horror to bring our own baby life. Yet, 0 had been _born_, after all. Could it be, that the sudden fatigue, the weakness, the obvious but ignored pain... Had all of this been birth pains to her? If she insisted on carrying him like a human mother would have, I supposed it was possible. At any rate, she couldn't have been more pleased. She still looked terrible, and I wasn't about to let her try to move; but something told me that she would have done this a thousand times, if she'd had to, just for a chance for 0 to survive.

Pride filled me up, erasing all alarm and doubt. I was _so_ proud of my wife, and I was so proud of our little one. We had made this new life, together. With a piece of myself and a piece of her in him, 0 was destined for amazing things. I just _knew it._

All at once, he began to stir in her arms, and he opened his mouth wide to yawn. Then his eyes flickered open, a little at a time, revealing the green glass lenses we had worked so hard on. We both could hardly breathe; we were so excited! He was opening his eyes, and the people who loved him the most in the whole world would be the first people he saw. His eyes darted right up at us, and he blinked a few times, unsure of what he was looking at; unable to speak at all, we just smiled delightedly at him, enchanted.

"Hello, 0," she whispered at last.

With an energy that surprised us both, he reached up and held his fingers against 7's cheek.

"...Ma?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice breaking with invisible tears. "Yes, I am."

His lip began to quiver, and he buried his face in her shoulder, whimpering fearfully. "I was looking for you, ma; I was looking for you _everywhere_," he mumbled. "But it was dark and cold, and I couldn't see anyone, and I was scared!"

As he dissolved into tears, his mother held him close, rocking him gently, half singing her words as she soothed him. "Hush, little love, it's alright. Everything's okay. You're here, with us now. You're safe now. Mama loves you. Papa loves you. You found us, and we're here now. It's going to be okay, 0, its going to be okay."

That house was no place for either of them. Now that the birth was done, I wanted to get them home, or at least out of there, as soon as possible. But I wondered at how I would get them down three flights of stairs. Whether or not 0 could walk on his own was unknown, and 7 was barely strong enough to sit up by herself. This trip home was going to be difficult and interesting; I could already see that.

"Is there another way down, besides the stairs?" I asked her, knowing that she knew the house much better than I did.

She nodded weakly. "There's a dumbwaiter in the bedroom across the hall," she said. "He never used it, but it's there. It goes to any floor but the attic, I think."

"That'll do," I decided, bracing myself to stand up. "You hold onto him, and I'll hold onto you, okay?"

She gave me a quizzical look. "Will you be alright, carrying both of us?"

I smiled confidently. "It's only across the hall. I've carried heavier, farther. I'll be fine; just hold onto our son, and I'll do the rest."

She smiled back, understanding and trusting, too tired to argue. With one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I slowly rose to my feet, taking a second to regain my balance. With 0 still cradled securely against her body, I started as quickly and carefully as I could toward the door. Together, they made an awkward load to carry. But that didn't bother me; I had already been through hell and back, just saving her. This was nothing. I was glad to do it.

Across the hallway, the bedroom door conveniently stood ajar, and I walked right in. The room was in similar shape as the one we had come from, though it was much more sparsely furnished. A four post bed stood with its headboard against the wall, it's plain sheets full of holes, covered with dust and mildew. A tall, weathered chest of drawers stood against the other wall, flanked by a broken mirror; the shards were scattered across the warped floor, in pieces large, tiny, and microscopic. I thanked the powers that be for my wood and metal feet, which would crunch right through the broken glass without injury.

The wall we faced featured a broken window on one end, closer to the chest. On the other end of the wall, by the head of the bed, there was a large, gaping hole. Inside, we could see a rope hanging down, suspended by a pulley that was out of our sight. A lever stuck out of the wall beside it, still amazingly intact. Of the three positions it could be at, it sat in the middle, neutral.

"That's it," she said, looking at the hole in the wall.

"Do you remember how it works?"

"A little. 2 explained it once, though he wouldn't let us use it. He was always worried we might get trapped in the wall if it broke. He just wanted us to know, in case there was an emergency."

I smiled and laughed a little. This was as big an emergency as any. As long as it was a way to get my wife and child out of the house, I didn't have a lot of room to be picky about hazards that were merely potential. 2 probably wouldn't have been thrilled with my blatant carelessness, if he had been there; however, he wasn't here this time to stop me.

Recalling her brief, long-ago lesson, she instructed me to pull the lever upwards to activate the pulley and bring the dumbwaiter up. Then, when it arrived, to return the lever to neutral to stop it. Then, to lower it again, hold the lever down until we hit the ground floor. Doing as I was told, I found an end table in the corner and pushed it up beside the lever, so I could reach it. It was slightly stuck, rusted into place from so many years. It took some effort, but I got it pushed all the way up. The rope began to move, slowly at first, gaining momentum until it found its normal speed. It quickly came into sight, and I released the lever back into neutral.

It was nothing more than a wooden box with a sliding door. Once upon a time, kitchen servants would have sent food and drink to the man of the house, on whichever floor he happened to be on. Our creator had never had servants to do this for him; in fact, he had been so engrossed in his work, 7 said that he had often forgot to eat for days at a time. However little he had used it, I was certain he would have been happy to see us using it now.

I took a look at what had been accomplished, and realized that I still had some fabricating to do. The dumbwaiter was here, but it was high up in the wall, where 7 and 0 couldn't get to it; I would have to build steps of some kind, so I could carry them up. Also, I would have to weigh the lever down, so I could ride with them. Luckily, the third floor was full of odds and ends I could use. Piecing it all together in my head, I had seen all the things I would need lying around in the cluttered first room. It would take a little more time, but it would work out nicely. Leaving my exhausted family to nap for a bit, I ran back for the things I needed, and got to work.

I salvaged the mirror, built on a hinge so that it swung back and forth on its feet. Being made of cheap material, and free of all its glass, I easily moved it into place beside the dumbwaiter, before the end table. I tipped the empty frame forward until it hit the edge of the table, resulting in a gentle incline. To keep it from flipping back like a catapult, I also placed an empty box beneath the bottom of the frame. Now, it led right up to the opening.

To hold the lever down, I found a length of thick, sturdy string and a huge dictionary. I tied one end of the string around the lever, and tied the other end around the book several times, leaving it sitting upright on the tabletop.

All this had taken me less than an hour. The engineering was simple, elegant, and sound. It would serve our purposes excellently. What was more, 0 had been wide awake almost the entire time, observing closely but silently. He had been so quiet, I hadn't noticed him watching until I stepped back to admire my work.

"You're fast builder, pa," he suddenly said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are we going in the box yet?"

He certainly wasn't scared or sad anymore. In fact, in that moment, he reminded me of myself. Curious, observant, earnest, but in a childlike manner that became his age, without making him seem precocious or particularly genius. He was only a little boy. He had just been born. And he was _so_ adorable. I couldn't wait to learn more about him.

I turned and started to walk to him; but, when he saw me coming, he jumped right up and ran to me with all the energy in the world. I hardly knew what was happening until he ran into me, throwing his arms around my waist and hugging me tightly, so that I nearly fell over.

Those were his first steps, and he had skipped walking completely. He was already _running_. Truly, this was 7's child as much as mine. I picked him up and hugged him back; he had no muscles or blood, but the presence of life and a soul in him gave his body warmth.

"Pa, will I grow up to be big and smart like you?" He asked, fiddling with my zipper pull.

I chuckled and held his hand firmly. "I don't know about big, my son; but you are already very smart. And that _will_ get bigger, with time."

"Why can't it be right now? I want to be smart like you right now!"

"You haven't even been here a whole day. Sometimes, you have to wait for things. We waited weeks for you."

His green eyes went wide. "_Weeks_? Wow! You're amazing! Okay, I can wait for weeks, too," he said resolutely.

I couldn't do much but smile and admire my hard work. My opus magnum. My son, 0.

"Let's get you and your mother home, before it gets too late."

"Ooh, pa, can I walk? I really wanna walk, some. Can I?"

I shrugged, not really surprised because of his obvious energy. "I suppose you may. But you have to help me with your mother; she's still very weak. Do you think you can do it?"

"Why's ma so weak?"

"I'll explain it later, 0. Right now, we have to go, okay?"

He nodded his head vigorously. "I can help."

"Thank you," I answered, setting him back on his feet. He wobbled a little at first, but practiced his balance while I knelt down and picked 7 back up. She had slept the whole time, and didn't stir at all as I carried her to the ramp I had made. But she went on breathing, slowly and steadily, so I didn't let myself worry. She was so strong; between a little bed rest and my keeping an eye on her, I knew she would be just fine in a day or two. As long as I wasn't worried, neither was 0, who trotted along at my side.

We climbed into the wooden box, and I carefully let her down on the floor. 0 plunked himself down beside her, vigilant as a guard dog. Then I got back up and stepped back out onto the ramp.

"Pa? Aren'tcha coming, pa?"

"I'll be right back, 0," I answered. "I have to get the device going before we can go anywhere; it'll only take a second, okay?"

"Oh. Okay."

"The movement will be a little sudden, and maybe a little scary at first," I warned him, "but you don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to leave you, and you aren't going to leave me. I promise."

0 beamed full of faith. "I'll take care of ma, just like you said."

"I trust you, son," l agreed, and walked up to the tabletop. I pushed the dictionary off the edge, and it jerked the lever all the way down. The dumbwaiter started down at once, and I slid back down the ramp and back into the box before it vanished completely.

"That was cool!" 0 exclaimed as I sat beside him. As the dumbwaiter descended down the hollow wall, it was pitch black. He scooted close to me and climbed into my lap.

"This is kinda scary, pa," he whimpered, clinging to me as the rope and pulley squeaked and clattered above us, and the wooden box creaked ominously around us.

"It's okay. I'll protect you," I assured him, holding him safely close. Even in the dark, I could hear and feel him sucking his thumb. It was a habit that 7 couldn't stand, and had almost broken both the twins of; hoping to prevent it entirely, I gently pulled 0's hand away from his mouth and just held it.

"You shouldn't do that, son. I didn't make these hands for you to chew or suck on. I made them to do greater things."

"_You_ made my hands, pa?"

"With my own hands, yes."

He snuggled into my shoulder with a happy sigh. "I love these hands. Thank you."

"You're most welcome."

"I love you, pa."

As a parent, that's really all you ever want to hear from your children. That this unique, independent life form, that you've put so much time and energy and effort into, who you love with all your heart, understands that and loves you back. This is one of the greatest feelings in the world. Feeling it just then, hearing 0 say it for the first time, made me wonder at the deepness of human love, and how we were only beginning to know what it was. There's a vastness to it that still reminds me of how small even the largest of people is, when faced with something so huge and ungraspable. But, at the same time, it fills me up and makes me feel ten times bigger than I really am.

And that moment was no exception. My son loved me. He knew and understood, and he loved. It filled me with a feeling of pride and victory, until I thought I would explode. If nothing else ever went right, I had succeeded in him. I held him so close, as close as I could without hurting him, trying not weep for sheer joy.

"I love you, too, son."

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Author's Notes...

World, meet 0. 0, meet world. Ah, I see you're already taking the world by storm. Well, my work here is done. :)

For those of you I haven't already leaked to, 0 is based heavily on my own five year old brother. He is a handsome little muffin, but he is an evil genius inside. He will be our supreme evil overlord one day. All I can say is that he had better not trick me into taking Greenland—I already know that Greenland is the cold one, and Iceland is the green one. XD

0 will also have a love of playing dress-up and make believe—in the most manly and boyish of ways. Knights ninjas, samurai, cowboys, and Jedi/Sithlords, the works. He also has a theme music, personal sound effects, and his so-called fight word, "Paystah!" He runs around, making all this noise in some fabricated, elaborate and ridiculous costume, stopping every few seconds to bust a move and shout his fight word.

Uh-huh, 0 will be doing _all_ of these things. Ma, pa, and big sis will find it nothing short of adorable. Big brover, on the other hand... uh, not so much...


	5. Chapter 4: Welcome Home

Dude, finding a computer to upload these on has been a nightmare! Chapter 5 is ready. I just need to convert it. UG, nightmare... I:(

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Chapter 4: Welcome Home

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The dumbwaiter thumped to a stop, but it was still dark. Random beams of light shone through the dilapidated sliding door in the wall. I reached out and pushed it a little, just to test it, and it fell away, sort of disintegrating as it went.

0 was very impressed. "Wow are you strong, pa!"

"Not really," I laughed, taking a look out into the room. We had definitely arrived in the kitchen, on the first floor. There was a small wooden table in the middle of the room, with two matching chairs knocked askew on either side of it. Rubble from the floor above coated the table and countertops. Other than dirt and debris, the floor just below us was clear for another jump. I picked 7 back up and prepared to get her down to the floor—she had slept through the whole ride, and I wasn't surprised.

"Don't move, now" I said to 0. "I have to get her down first. I'll call for you when its your turn, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, nodding his head.

So I leaped off the edge and to the floor, landing on my feet, but falling on one knee to keep from falling on my face. And still, she didn't stir. I carefully set her down against the wall, and looked back up. 0 was standing expectantly near the edge, but a reasonable distance from it. I held my arms up to him.

"Come on, 0, jump. I'll catch you, I promise."

He didn't hesitate or look nervous at all. With an excited grin, he jumped right out, falling perfectly into my arms.

"That was fun! Can we do it again?"

"Maybe some other time," I answered, kneeling to pick 7 up, _again. _I sort of wished I had a wagon, or something nearby to build one. I would have to carry her all the way home. But, really, after thinking about it, I didn't mind. It wasn't _that _far, I decided.

"So, 0, you say you want to walk?"

"Yeah! I wanna walk, and run, and jump _all_ the way! It'll be so fun!"

I loved how excited he was, even though he had no idea where we were going. He was just certain that I wouldn't lead him to harm. So I led the way out, onto the street, and back the way we had come; and he bounced alongside me the whole way. Surprisingly, keeping track of him was easy. He was so curious, and he wanted to see and touch everything around us. However, he also had questions and knew that I would have answers.

"Pa, what's this funny-lookin' thing?"

"That is a screw."

"What's it do?"

"It holds two pieces of something together."

"Do screws hold _me_ together?"

"Why yes, quite a few of them."

"Where are they?" He insisted, looking all over his body. "How come I can't see any of them?"

"They're inside you. You're not really supposed to see them."

"Ooooh... All this green stuff is grass, right? Where does it come from?"

"From underground. Actually, I don't know a whole lot about grass. Your brother and sister could tell you more."

His eyes went wide. "Brover and sister? I have a big brover and a big sis?"

"_Brother_," I enunciated with a smile. "And yes, you do have a big brother and a big sister. They're twins. Do you know what that means?"

"Um... No, I don't think so..."

"They were born at the same time, and they look identical. They don't always act identical, though."

"Identical?"

"That means, the same."

"Am I a twin?"

"No, you were born by yourself."

"Oooh..."

He still didn't seem to get it completely, but he was trying. I had a feeling he would understand better what I was saying when he saw them. In the meantime, the screw he had picked up became a sword; as he slashed it around, he continued to ask questions about the things he found, and the blossoming nature around him. He also gleaned an enchanted belt, a magic cape, and a hat of invisibility from the ruins. He triumphantly proclaimed himself the magical sorcerer of light, and went on to ask more questions about the sun, and if he could use its light as a power-up for his sword of sunshine.

Where was he coming up with this stuff? I suddenly couldn't help but think of 1, and I smiled. Children, questions, imagination, unbridled energy... He would have _hated_ this.

Of all the questions 0 asked, "Are we there yet?" was not one of them. Between his quest for knowledge and his made up magical adventures, the hour-long journey flew by in what seemed like an instant. We were turning into the library courtyard before I knew it. And he was neither tired nor out of questions.

"Why're we going in there, pa? It looks dark and cold and scary in there!"

"This is a library, 0; it's a place that's full of books, and it's our home. This is where we live, with your brother and sister."

He looked torn between apprehension and excitement. "It's like when I was looking for you, but I was all alone in the dark and couldn't find you," he explained quietly. "But then I opened up my eyes, and I finally found you, and it was bright and warm. I don't want to go back in the dark, pa. I'll lose you and ma again."

"It's not that dark," I assured him. "Plenty of light comes in during the day, and we light fires at night. You won't lose us, 0. Even if you get a little lost, the twins will help you. They know this library very well; better than I do."

He smiled up at me and walked a little closer, still dressed in his cobbled-together costume. "I already love them a whole bunch. Will they love me, too?"

His little heart was so pure and good, it made mine melt. "I can't imagine that they wouldn't. They'll love you just as much as your mama and I do."

He beamed back, as if he really did hold all the light in the world within him. "Good," he concluded, no longer worried by the dark.

As we walked inside, it certainly was dark and cool. And, to my surprise, 3 and 4 weren't there to meet us. I'd expected them to have bowled me over as soon as we entered. But no, it was quiet. I wondered where they could be. However, as long as they weren't around, I was eager to get 7 to bed. She had remained deep asleep for our entire journey, and I supposed she would sleep a while more, then. Our soft, warm bed would be a considerable improvement from my rough arms. I told 0 to follow me to our room; I also supposed, just for the first few nights, he would be sleeping with us.

We didn't keep a lot of stuff cluttering up our personal space—not when there was so much room for junk in the rest of the library. Our room was built into the bottom shelf of a bookcase near the twin's study, out of books and plywood. Recently, I had even installed a door; it was a simple and convenient luxury that we couldn't believe we had done without for so long. Within, the only things inside were the bed—something of a wedding present I had built—and a music box that we used for a chest and a table, with the cloth we used to cover it cast to one side. There were also nails pounded into the walls, to hang our gear on. In one corner there was also a candle holder with a short candle; my attempts at crafting a new light-stick sat beside it, mocking it.

As I put 7 down on her side of the bed, 0 did a complete scope of the small room. There was so little in it, and it was almost pitch black, but it seemed to captivate him. I flexed my arms and stretched them wide; I had been so busy answering 0's questions, I hadn't noticed when my arms had fallen asleep. Now it felt like tiny, sharp claws were crawling along my skin. I also took a match from the corner and lit the candle. Now, with its light filling the very Spartan space, 0 was more enthralled than before.

"This is our home?" He asked in wonder. "This is _my_ home?"

"It sure is," I smiled. "Welcome home, son."

As if on cue, I heard skittering and rapid flickering nearby.

_"Mama? Papa? Is that you? Are you home?"_

0 clearly heard them too and looked at me with a sort of alarmed expression. "What's that?"

"It's your brother and sister," I answered. "They don't speak like we do."

"I hear a noise, like _shika-shika-shika-shika-shika_, but I hear words, too. Where's their voices?"

I had never thought of a sound effect that did their flickering justice, or a simpler way to explain how we understood them. By all accounts, their flickering should have just been noise, perhaps in a language only they could understand by dint of being twins. But their unusual speech registered in our minds as whole words and structured sentences.

There was a quiet but urgent knocking on the closed door, which I answered at once. Naturally, both the twins glommed on me before I could warn them not to.

_"You are home! Thank goodness!"_

_"You were gone for so long, we were getting really worried."_

_"Is everything okay? Did it work? Where's mama?"_

_"And 0. Where's he?"_

"Calm down, calm down," I insisted, hugging them back. "Everything went fine. We're all okay; just exhausted."

_"So where is 0?"_ 4 asked anxiously. _"I wanna see my little brother!"_

0 was sort of hiding behind me, not sure at first what to make of them. But he stood up on his tippy-toes and peered over my shoulder, right into her face. She jumped a little, surprised, and hesitated, as if she thought she was seeing things. Then, she ducked under my arm and stood beside him. He made her look like a giant; the top of his head just barely reached her shoulder.

Carefully easing into his personal space, she gently held his face in her hands, just looking at him for a moment. Then she pulled him into a tight hug, from which there was no escape.

_"You are __so__ cute!" _She exclaimed, cuddling him close. _"I love you!"_

I couldn't imagine how happy 0 must have been to hear it. He looked up at her with a serious expression and said, "Hey, wait a minute... Are you my big brover, or my big sis?"

4 laughed merrily. _"I'm big sis. My names is 4."_

"Well, I am 0! I'm also the sorcerer of light, sometimes."

_"Oh, you are just adorable!" _

3 was nowhere near as thrilled. He stayed by me, glaring at the others defensively.

_"He's not __that__ great," _he mumbled. He glanced over my shoulder and saw 7, still sleeping soundly, and instantly skittered to her.

_"What's the matter with her?" _He asked frantically, crawling up beside her. _"What happened? What did he do to her?"_

"0 didn't _do_ anything," I answered. "You told us, yourselves, birth is harder on mothers than on fathers. Your mother's just a little drained right now. She needs her rest, that's all."

_"So it __is__ his fault! He did this!"_

"Nothing is anyone's fault," I answered severely. "It just happened. And it's not forever."

_"Is she in pain?"_

"I don't think so."

_"Can she move, any?"_

"Not on her own, yet. She's very weak right now."

He scowled furiously at me. _"Then she __is__ in pain."_

"I'm not arguing with you about this, 3," I said, just about done with his attitude. "0 was only born this morning. He hasn't done anything to deserve this from you. Now look, I am tired, too. 0 is no such thing, and I can't keep up with him much longer. Can I trust you and your sister to look after him, just for a little while, so I can sit still for a moment and take care of my wife?"

As long as his mother was on the line, he didn't seem to mind pretending to be pleasant. So he trudged off with his brother and sister. If I had been less tired, I don't know; I probably wouldn't have let him go so lightly. As soon as they were gone, I flopped back on the bed and just lay still for a few minutes. I hadn't realized quite how weary I was. Being still, being quiet, being _horizontal_ of my own free will—it felt like heaven.

Beside me, 7 went on sleeping, unaware of what had just happened with 3. I envied her in that, a little. How could she _still_ be sleeping like a rock? She wasn't dead, I knew. I was starting to worry, now; I had expected her to at least stir when the twins had come in. Maybe there was something wrong. I was tempted to open her up and take a look at her works, find something out of place that I could fix. But I didn't want to operate on her without her knowing.

I placed my hand on my chest, and... felt something inside. I sat up and pulled my zipper down to look, and realized with a start that the Source was still sitting like a stone in my body cavity. I jumped up and walked over to the music box; the tablecloth that usually covered it was in a heap on the floor. I opened the lid, greeted by its bright, tinkling tune, and carefully put the Source inside, where we kept it hidden with other small, special things. I closed the lid back, and spread the cloth over the top. At last, that was done.

I looked back over at 7, and tried not to let myself worry. How much longer would she sleep...?

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Author's Notes...

Boy, has this chapter been done and redone. Thank goodness I didn't just up and post this right away; I would have missed out on some awesome little details that will be useful later... ;)


	6. Chapter 5: Troubles

Holy heck. If you've seen my speel in my profile about what a PAIN computers and interwebz and flash drives and word processors are, you know why this has taken almost two weeks to update. :P

As such, I have a mega mass-update for you: FOUR WHOLE CHAPTERS! 8D Eat up, y'all!

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Chapter 5: Troubles

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It was nearly dark before 7 came around. But, at long last, she began to stir, and her eyes slowly, tiredly opened. I couldn't have been more relieved; I had spent those long hours being so worried, unable to ask her how she was feeling, if she was hurt, if there was anything I could do to help. Now, maybe I could get to the bottom of this. As she opened her eyes and looked up at me, she sighed and smiled.

"Oh, hello, 9," she said quietly. "Are we home?"

"Yes, we're home," I answered, hugging her tight, but carefully. Her skin was oddly cool; I hoped, then, some of my warmth would stay with her. "You're home, safe in our bed. Everything's fine now."

"Hm... That's good... Where are the children?"

"I'm not sure, but they're getting along. Do you want to see them?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I would," she said, her smile broadening. "I'm so glad they're getting along. I had been so nervous..."

I had been nervous, too. Heck, I was _still_ nervous. I hadn't seen any of them in hours, and had spent those hours rationalizing about why I shouldn't be. 0 was alive, full of energy, and as vocal as me. If 3 was being bad to him somewhere, he would have run to tell me, for sure, wouldn't he? And, even if his brother wasn't on his side, his sister was. Between his earnestness and 4's watchful eye, I was certain that 0 had been perfectly fine all this time. Anyway, he needed some time with them, to get to know them, like he had with me on our walk home. For all I knew—and hoped dearly—3 had had a complete change of heart and was enjoying his little brother now.

Now that 7 was awake, I suddenly wanted to see them, too.

"I'll find them," I assured her, gently kissing her forehead before getting up. "Don't try to move until I come back, okay? Just lay still and rest."

As I was walking out the door, her voice stopped me.

"9... I can't say anything in front of them... But there's something wrong. I can feel it."

My biggest fear, confirmed. I turned right back and sat beside her, holding her hand solidly. "Tell me about it. Are you in any pain?"

"Not really; it's strange. Do you feel... empty? From the... thing?"

"I did, a little, but only at first. The pain is gone, now. Movement seemed to help."

"I can't move. I feel so drained and tired. And it's from... I don't know, deep down, inside. Like, I'd like so much to stand up; my brain says I should get up and run to my babies, myself. But my body won't let me. As if there was something holding me back."

"That's not like you, at all."

"What should we do?"

I considered for a moment. "It sounds like a technical thing," I said at last. "Probably, something got knocked out of place, while you were carrying 0. I _told_ you to let me take him, silly."

She gripped my arm urgently; once again, her grip was like a fish, weak and limp, barely enough to be called a grip.

"Love, when they've gone, I want you to find what's wrong and _fix it_. I'm being held prisoner in my own body._ Please help me_."

She sounded so desperate, frightened by what was happening to her. I didn't want to leave her side, not for a second, not even to find where our whole, healthy children had gone to. Seeing her like this bothered me so much.

"I can look right now, if you want."

But she shook her head. "No. I have to see them. I have to know they're alright. ...I have to see 0."

"I understand," I agreed. "I'll be back with them soon. Just try not to move much, and we'll be here as soon as we can." Before going, I pressed my lips to her fingers; they were as cool as her skin. I couldn't stand leaving her alone like this. But, truly, how far could they have gotten? I headed off, fairly sure of where I could find my children.

The large, partially smashed globe where the twins had built their study was close by. If I were 4, and 0 had just arrived home, where would I take him? There, of course. When I reached the study, I stepped into the dim light which was radiating from strategically placed candles. Luckily, I could plainly hear movement, accompanied by 0's childish, delighted laughter. In spite of everything else, the sound of his laughter lifted my spirits and moved me to smile.

"Hello?" I called into the odd shadows.

0 burst like a cannon from behind the big scrapbook, sending a few papers flying in his wake. And, I noticed that his first costume had been replaced by a folded paper hat and a rusty broken nail.

"Oh, pa, you're awake!" He cried happily, throwing his arms around my waist. "You and ma sure were tired, huh?"

The twins had followed behind slightly slower, more fluid, like quicksilver, as they always did.

_"Is mama awake?" _3 wanted to know at once.

"Just now," I answered. "But she's still very tired. Even so, she'd like to see you—all of you."

4 looked very concerned, wringing her hands. _"Is there anything we can do for her?"_

I gave her a reassuring smile and patted her on the head. "If you can just come and see her, and be your sweet, wonderful selves, I think that would help a lot."

_"That isn't much," _3 protested. _"What else can we do?"_

"Everything else that can be done, I have to do, myself. If you can look after your brother for a while tomorrow—"

_"Again? We were stuck with him all afternoon today!"_

"You did a good job, if it's any consolation," I answered, swinging 0 up onto my hip. "You had fun with your brother and sister today, right?"

Wordlessly, he vigorously nodded his head with a vague smile. That was unusual. I got the feeling there was more to it than that, that he wasn't willing to say in front of them. Changing the topic, I asked, "Are you still the sorcerer of light, or are you something new, now?"

"Um, actually, I changed my mind, and now he's the _warrior _of light," he explained casually. "But right now, big brover says I'm a pirate. I've got a hat, and a pirate knife, and I say 'arrg!'"

That sounded alright; at least they had had one pleasant moment together, that afternoon. And his new costume was as adorable as the last one. "Don't lose track of all these pieces," I cautioned him, putting him back on the floor.

_"We won't," _4 said with a smile. _"I knew he'd want to play with toys and stuff a lot, so I made a place for all his stuff, right here with mine."_

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetie. Thank you."

She giggled happily, _sweetie _being one of her favorite pet names I had for her. Her twin stood away from us, his arms crossed and his face set in an impatient scowl.

_"Can we __please__ go now?" _He demanded.

I shot him a look warning him to watch his tone of voice, and led them all out into the building. Before letting him run after the others into the bedroom, I held 3 by the shoulder, and we stood in the shadow outside the door.

"Before you go near your mother, I want you to explain _right_ now what this attitude is all about."

_"What attitude?"_

"This idea you've got in your head, that blaming your brother for things is an alright thing to do. It's not. Your mother isn't feeling well; I don't want you bringing that in here and worrying her."

_"So she is hurt."_

"That's not the point. She's worried enough about her own health, and, frankly, so am I. I don't want her stuck in bed, hardly able to move, wondering if it's okay to leave 0 alone with you."

_"Of course it's okay," _he scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if I was being stupid and unreasonable.

He was going to continue, but I didn't let him. Was he _really_ going to use that tone of voice with_ me_? It made me furious—a difficult feeling to spark in me. I suddenly felt the urge to smack him soundly, but there were enough problems to deal with. Instead, I raised my hand, as if I really was going to hit him, and he backed down at once, terrified.

"That was a warning, 3," I said, lowering my hand. "It was your idea to call me papa; if that's what you want, that's exactly what you will get. You will _not_ speak to me that way, and you will _not_ speak to you mother that way, either. Do you understand me?"

Scared, if not moved by anything else I had said, he nodded sheepishly, silently.

"And what do we say?"

_"...I'm sorry."_

On any other day, that wouldn't have sufficed by a long shot. But I was tired, anxious, and kind of sick of dealing with my son. I _hated_ to be sick of him, but he had done this, himself. I couldn't help how he chose to feel. But I could certainly help how he dealt with it. He could dislike 0 for the rest of his life, if he insisted. But I _refused_ to let my children be at open war with one another.

I had never been so stern with them before. They had never given me a reason to be. They had both been the most beautifully behaved couple of kids I could have imagined—several times better than anything I could have thought to design. Why was he doing this now? _Of all moments_, he chose this one to be difficult? Couldn't he see how many things needed to be done, and all the troubles I had to solve without him being so horrible?

Apparently not...

With an annoyed sigh, I let him skitter into the bedroom. I followed him, finding the bed full of our family. 0 had snuggled up beside his mother, his head on her shoulder, and her arms as tight around him as she could manage. 4 sat patiently beside them, looking unusually content; she seemed very mature, all of a sudden. However, there wasn't much room for 3 to join them, and he wasn't pleased in the slightest.

"I'm not sure how," 7 was saying to 4, "but I think you've gotten... taller, somehow."

She smiled sweetly. _"Thank you, mama. I think you've gotten prettier."_

"Yeah, ma's _way_ pretty," 0 agreed right away. "What about me? Am I more anything?"

7 laughed softly and stroked his cheek. "Smarter, I'm sure. You are your father's child; I can't imagine how much smarter you must be by now."

_"She's right, 0. You've already learned a ton of stuff. You can count to 20, and you can sing the alphabet, can't you?"_

"You can do all that?"

"Big sis taught me. She's a good teacher. Wanna hear me count to 20, ma?"

"Maybe in a little bit," she answered, looking up and seeing us in the doorway. "Baby, move over so your brother can sit down, too."

Instead of just moving over, 0 hopped up and let 3 have his whole place. He came and stood a little behind me, hugging my leg shyly. What could have gotten into him? I picked him back up, and he buried his face between my neck and shoulder.

"Big brover's mad at me," he whispered sadly. "Big sis says that I'm the cutest little pirate ever; but he says that pirates are bad guys. Pa, am I really a bad guy? I don't wanna be a bad guy!"

"Of course you're not," I answered, as the pieces clicked together in my head. "There isn't a single part of you that's bad. We made sure of that."

"I wish he wouldn't be so mean to me. I really like 3—he' so smart, and he can do all kinds of stuff, like reach the high shelves, and read, and catalogue. I can't do any of that stuff. I want to be just like him, but not mean."

"It's good of you to be so kind to him, when he isn't to you. Not entirely sure where you get _that_ from; certainly not from your mother," I said with a laugh, trying to change the topic and maybe lighten his mood. As I hoped, he smiled.

"Your skin feels funny, pa," he mentioned. "It's all tickley. I like it."

How could I have made something so perfect? How was that even possible? While I held him close, I listened as 7 gave some directions to the twins.

"This won't be forever; I just need you guys to be patient for a few days," she was saying. "Don't let 0 get into any trouble; keep him busy, and keep him safe. And do as your papa tells you. Help him when you can, especially when he asks you. And, most importantly, don't worry about anything, okay?"

_"Why do __we__ have to take care of 0?" _3 sulked.

"Do I _look_ like I can take care of him?" she asked, sounding peeved. "And your father has enough to think about, fixing me."

_"Don't you worry, mama," _4 interjected helpfully. _"We'll take care of him. It's no problem. Really."_

"I need to count on you two, here," 7 continued. "I need to know that my littlest baby will be safe while I can't be with him. Do you understand this?"

_"Of course."_

With 4, she was clearly satisfied. But she turned to 3 with a frown.

"If you are bad to him or anyone else in _any_ way, I cannot _tell_ you how much trouble you will be in," she warned him. "If you think for one second you're going to be funny because I can't get to you, think again. When I can stand up on my own, I will come after you. Do you understand me?"

She's always been better at seeing through people than I. I'm always looking for the best in others, but it sometimes clouds my thinking more than clears it. But not 7, always so sharp and alert. When she senses danger, she doesn't tolerate it. Certainly not from our children. At least the two of us were on the same page, there.

"Stay close to your big sister, okay?" I said quietly in 0's ear. "She'll take care of you."

"Maybe she'll teach me more about letters," he suggested hopefully. "Maybe big brover will help, too...?"

"Yes," I agreed slowly. "Maybe he will."

What else could I say? I prayed I would turn out to be right about that...

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Author's Notes...

None, really. Enjoy the next THREE chapters!


	7. Chapter 6: Fighting Words

Chapter 6: Fighting Words

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It was still early evening, and the children didn't seem tired at all. Satisfied that 7 was mostly alright, 4 took 0 back to the study, and 3 trudged behind. Again, we were alone.

"They're so enthusiastic," she sighed. "Do they _ever _sleep, you think?"

A fair question; I couldn't help laughing a little. "Are you ready, or do you want to rest?"

"No, no, do it now," she insisted, holding out her hand to me. "Just _fix _this."

She was pretty enthusiastic, herself. I came and sat beside her, taking her hand in mine, and runnng my free one along her arm. Her skin was no warmer than before. I was quite ready to get this fixed, too. I carefully undid the catch on her chest and took a look inside.

And, as I had suspected, I could plainly see a small cable knocked out of its place. It wasn't sparking, thank goodness. As a whole, it looked like an easy fix. I smiled and sighed with relief.

"Did you find something?"

"Looks like I did. And it should be simple to repair. But... I'm going to look in the book before I start touching things."

"How long will that take?"

"I can't say. I don't want to mess around with your works without any sleep, either."

"You haven't slept?"

"Not really; not with them still awake and running around. Anyway, I couldn't sleep. I wished I could, but something kept me up the whole time."

"...The nightmares?" She suggested.

It was true, I had suffered frequently from nightmares in the past. We all had, right after the war. But they had stuck fast to me, and kept me from sleeping well for months. They had lessened, recently; I hadn't had one for a long time. So I shook my head.

"No, it wasn't that. I just... didn't want to leave you all without a guard."

She gave me a thankful smile. "So, you'll start in the morning?"

"I'll study the book a little before I sleep tonight. It'll give us a headstart. And I don't want to leave 0 alone with..."

"With his jealous brother," she finished, just as pained to say it as I was. "9, for the first night, at least, I want him in here with us, where I can see him. I hate it , but I can't bring myself to trust 3 around him."

"I agree. He hasn't even been alive for a whole day yet. He seems so strong and free, but he _does _still need us... doesn't he?"

"He's just like me," she commented with a short, ruefull laugh. "Of course he needs us, dear. I need us; and he's only a very little boy. But I am very happy he's got his sister, while we're... busy."

"I don't intend for us to be busy for long. In fact, I feel moved to go see the book right now. I'll take down some notes, and we can start in the morning. I can't imagine this would take very long."

7 smiled and tried to squeeze my hand, but wasn't really able to. So I squeezed her hand instead. I ran my thumb over the tarnished brass jumpring on her finger—I had one just like it on my own hand. Not much, in the way of wedding rings; but that's what I had found. Either way, she had been thrilled by the idea, so I supposed it must have been a good one.

We could be so perfectly human sometimes, but only in the _oddest ways._

Leaving her to sleep some more—she claimed she could have slept for days—I returned to the study, armed with a few matches to light my way. Inside the globe, the darkness was banished deep into the darkest shadows by candlelight. As I stepped inside, I saw 0 running and jumping around the floor, making some kind of intense sound effect with every step. He was wearing his cape again, but now he had a cloth belt cinching it around his waist like a robe, and he had a large nut on his head like a crown. What could he be now? As soon as he saw me, he dashed up to me, still punctuating his every move with a sound effect. He slid to a stop in front of me, and froze in the middle of a martial arts move.

"Paystah!" He, exclaimed.

"...Paystah?"

"Yeah, its my fight word, for when I'm punchin' stuff," he explained, doing a few karate punches at the air.

"Right. And what do you expect to be punching, son?"

"I dunno. I'm a samurai, and they fight evil, so I guess I'll be punchin' stuff. Big sis says that I should practice."

Clever 4. She had him practicing self-defense without worrying him. She had him convinced it was just a game, with another silly costume, and another cool warrior he could be. I still hated to think about it, but knowing that 0 could at least flail around and smack or kick his brother if he had to made me feel a little better. I made a mental note to thank my daughter, for taking care of him.

"I suppose you will be fighting evil, eventually," I agreed evenly. "Speaking of your sister, where is she, and your brother?"

"Oh, they're readin' somethin'," 0 answered, sounding peeved. "But I can't read yet, and they asked me to play where I won't bother them. That's why big sis made me a samurai. She said that practice would keep me busy until she could come play with me some more."

That was strange. Why would 4 dare to be apart from him? "Are they in here somewhere?"

"Behind the _really _big book. They've got a really little one."

I walked off to find them, and 0 trotted alongside, holding my hand. As we rounded the big scrapbook, into its looming shadow, I could hear them arguing.

_"You're being pretty secretive about something."_

_"I don't know why you're so upset, 4. Its just a picture in a book."_

_"But this picture on this page in this book? I think you're up to no good."_

Fancy that. They were reading_ Annuls of Peracelcus_, the book that our creator had apparently built us from, and the book I was coming to look at, myself. I had studied it a little, and it was mostly about the concept, construction, and application of the Source. Peracelcus' favorite application had Stitchpunks, as well; several chapters of the book were dedicated to our own construction. There were detailed lists and complex diagrams of our basic anatomy within. Here, in these diagrams, I knew I could identify 7's loose cable, and how to fix it.

(How come we never refered to the book when building 0, I suddenly wondered. We never used it once, instead relying on what we knew of ourselves from experience. Maybe, if we had asked Peracelcus first, we could have finished 0 in half the time it had taken us, and avoided all of this from the beginning. Feh...)

"What are you guys doing back here, in the dark?" I asked, gaining their attention.

_"Oh, nothing, nothing," 3 _insisted, trying to block my view of the page he had been reading.

_"He's reading how to use the Source, papa," _4 countered right away_. "He's up to something. I don't like it."_

_"Stop it! Some twin you are!"_

_"If its so nothing, why get so defensive about it?"_

No wonder she had sent 0 somewhere else.

"4, honey, you don't scold him like that; you're not his mother," I interjected, coming to look at the book.

_"Hear that, sis? Don't scold me."_

"That doesn't mean you can give her trouble and get away with it. Hey... That's kind of devious for you, isn't it? Where's all of this coming from, lately?"

_"I dunno..."_

"Well figure it out. I don't like it, and I want it out of my house," I warned him, looking at what he had been reading. It was mostly in a local language, a strange mix of Latin, Greek and German, called English, which I had found difficult to learn so far. Some bits, like the one I was now reading, were in straight, plain Latin, which was much easier to puzzle through. It was something about the Source, naturally, and how to operate it... in reverse?

"What's this? Why are you reading about this?"

_"I'm not! I was looking for some other stuff, and this wasn't the right page!"_

"What kind of other stuff?"

_"About our souls and stuff. I'm curious; what's wrong with that?"_

If 7 had been there, she wouldn't have allowed him an inch. I could see loud and clear that he was up to no good, but I couldn't believe that... 3 wouldn't really... What on earth was going on with him?

"Well, I need to take the book back with me for a bit," I informed them, pushing the book shut. "So I can use the blueprints. It would really help."

_"Oh, certainly. Take it," _3 answered_. "If it'll help mama, take anything you need."_

_"What are you trying to prove?" _His twin demanded, her fists palntd on her hips_. "You act like you're the only one who cares, just 'cause you're mad at 0. You're not the only one who's worried about her. And at least papa's doing something about it; you've done nothing but be a worrisome little pill since they got home!"_

_"I have not!"_

_"Why are you being such a pain to everyone? What's wrong with you?"_

I had never seen them so angry before, especially not at each other. 4 suddenly reminded me so much of her mother—seeing through everything, not toletating this nonsense for a second. Maybe, my removing the book would help with the nonsense level. And maybe if I removed 0, as well...

"Hey, 0, this book is sort of heavy," I mentioned, hoisting it up over my head to carry it out. "Why don't you come with me, and help?"

"Help?" He asked, sort of mystified that I could find anything heavy. "How can I do that?"

"I need you to walk ahead of me, and make sure the path to the door is clear, okay?"

His face lit up at once. "I can cut a clear path, with my mighty fists!" He exclaimed, and ran ahead, leaving sound effects and another Paystah! in his wake.

"No more fightng, you two," I warned the twins. "Its been a long day. Get some sleep, and we'll feel better in the morning. _All_ of us will. You'll see."

4 looked more optomistic than 3, but I wasn't surprised. Balancing the book on my head and holding it steady with one hand, I followed my bouncing baby as fast as I could.

"The path's all clear, pa!" He announced proudly from the entrance. "I made sure, just like you said."

"Greta job, 0. I'm so proud of you."

He beamed back, proud that I was proud of him. "Are we going to see ma some more?" He asked as we walked back into the dark.

"Yeah, we are. There are some drawings in this book that I think can help her feel better."

"She looks real sad. Can you really make her feel better?"

"There are a lot of things I can do. And I can teach you some of them, if you want."

"Oh yeah! I'd love that!" Suddenly, he karate-chopped the air, did a clumsy little hop, and yelled his fight word again.

"Paystah!"

As his voice echoed through the building, he straightened himself and grinned at me. "You see that, pa? I'm not scared of the dark and cold anymore! I don't need to be anymore, 'cause I know where you and ma are at, now."

"You are a very brave little boy, 0," I answered with a smile, as we walked back into the bedroom. He ran right in, jumping right back on the bed; I had to carefully manuver the book though the narrow doorway on its side. I propped it up against the corner closest to my side of the bed, where I could leave it open for reference. I looked back at the bed, where 0 sat quietly, admiring his sleeping mother.

"She's real pretty, huh, pa?"

I sat beside him and patted his head. "She sure is, son; she sure is."

"Pa, why does she have to be so sick? S'not fair!"

"I know its not; I can't stand it, either," I agreed, pulling him close. "I would take all this for her, if I could... But she sort of did this herself. Because she loves you very much."

"She got sick for me?"

"Yeah... And that's why she's got me, to take care of her when she's sick. And that book will show me how. There's something wrong with her, but I can learn how to make it right."

"Oh yeah. Big sis said you learn a whole lot of different stuff from books. But I can't read none of them yet."

"You can't read any of them yet," I corrected. "Hey, are you tired at all?"

At the mention of the idea, he yawned wide. "Nope," he answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Nuh-uh... Um, maybe just a little. But samurais are big strong warriors, and they don't need sleep, and I am a samurai!"

"Your mama's the biggest, strongest warrior I know, and look how much she sleeps."

"Ma's a warrior?" He asked with wide, wondrous eyes. "Just like me?"

"Um, sort of..."

"Well, then I guess I could sleep for a little bit."

"Okay, then. You lie down next to her, and close your eyes for a bit. Take off your cape, and your crown, okay?"

"Um, actually, its a ghi and a headband to protect my head, like a samurai wears," he explained factually, wriggling out of his costume. "Samurais don't wear crowns. Kings wear crowns, pa. Hey, do you have a crown somewhere? Can I see it?"

"Oh, 0..."

"And that means that ma must be the queen, and big brover and me are the princes, and big sis is the pretty princess, right? Just like she read to me today!"

"Your sister must have told you some fun stories today, huh?" I said, as he climbed back on the bed.

"Oh, she did. And she says she'll tell me more soon. I sure like her stories," he explained as I threw a blanket over him and 7. "Her stories all end happy, forever and ever."

He talked a little more about the pleasant, special things he had done with 4 that afternoon, but he drifted off to sleep in minutes. He snuggled up close to 7; even though she was sleeping like a rock, dead to the world, she must have felt him. Out of what must have been instinct, she put her arm around and him and held him. If that didn't warm her up, nothing would.

With them settled, I opened up the book and flipped through the pages until I came to the chapter of blueprints. It was surreal to look at them; the basic shapes that had been drawn so carefully could have been any one of us without our unique details. We had all been made pretty much the same—same shape, same frame, same set of works. But we also came in different sizes, colors, and with different talents. And humans... It seemed that we weren't much different from them, in that way.

And, among these designs, I found the cable I was searching for, specifically singled out with some notes beside it. And it was in Latin that I could read! And it dictated that all I had to do to put it in place was pop the end into a clearly marked socket, like a power strip, with some other cables.

Ha! I'd had a feeling that would be an easy fix.

My shoulder suddenly twinged under its scar, the seam stitched back together with red thread. It was kind of funny—"That should hold," he had said. "If 2 were here, he'd have done a better job," he'd said... Damnit, 5, why'd you have to leave us? You were our brother. We needed you. I couldn't help but be very angry at my son. We had given him a brother of his own, and this was the thanks we got?

Brothers are important, I thought to myself. How can he not understand that, after all this time?

My research concluded, I quietly shut the book and wondered if I would be able to sleep if I tried. I really felt like there was too much on my mind; I wouldn't force it to calm down, if it didn't want to. That usually ended up being an exhaustive waste of time. Instead, I decided to work on my light stick. It had sort of fallen by the wayside recently, when 0 had become a bigger priority. Now that he was here, and would probably be prone to wandering around in the dark, a reliable light source would probably be useful.

So I sat in silence, piecing my new tool together. It had taken me a while to find pieces that would suit my purposes. Finding a new battery had been hard enough; finding a candlestick holder that fit had been even harder. And, after a long time, I had actually found one! That had been a very good afternoon. I had been afraid I'd have to find something else, and it had been frustrating. And light bulbs—every broken down car in the emptiness had at least two of them. Finding one that wasn't broken had also taken a while.

Now that I had the pieces, and had found time to put it together, it came together just as quickly as before. It was done... That hadn't taken long, at all. But, oddly enough, I felt much better. I twisted the bulb until it up with a zap, humming as electricity pulsed through it.

How does it do that? I wondered with a satisfied smile. I stood up and blew out the candle, its usefulness outdone. Instead, my new light stick illuminated our room, just as brightly, if not brighter. Wow, would 0 be amazed in the morning. And 7, as well; she'd have a lot to be happy about when she woke.

Not bad, for one night's work. Now I felt like I could sleep. I wanted so badly to sleep. Leaning my light stick against the wall and turning it off, I finally climbed under the blanket next to 0, and put my arm around them both. I was asleep in seconds.

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Author's Notes...

Chapters 2 through 6 have all been ONE WHOLE DAY. Thank goodness that is done...


	8. Chapter 7: Repairs

Chapter 7: Repairs

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"Does that thing _have_ to stay in here?"

7 didn't like miscellaneous stuff cluttering our bedroom on any day. The fact that I had dragged her least favorite book into the corner irritated her a little, and I didn't really blame her.

"I need it to work out of," I answered, flipping back to the page I needed, just to be safe.

"This won't take long, will it?"

"Not at all, love."

"And you'll get that book out of our room when you're done?"

I hesitated. After what had happened with 3 last night, I didn't want it where he could get to it so easily. I would explain this when I was finished with the operation.

"I feel like it's staring at me, challenging me, mocking me because it _knows _I don't read well," she fumed.

"It's a book, 7. It knows a lot, but it doesn't know you. And besides, it's going to help fix you," I pointed out, arriving back at the page I was looking for, and wondering why I hadn't thought to mark it last night. Aside from what I had found, I also spotted some auxiliary notes at the bottom.

"...This says that fixing this is easy and straight-forward enough, but it might hurt."

"How much?"

"It doesn't say..."

"Oh, whatever. Just do it. I'm sure I've had worse before."

I was sure of that, as well. I sat on the bed next to her and undid her catch.

"Ready?"

"Always."

I took a deep breath and reached for the cable. As I held it to its socket, something shorted with a spark, and she recoiled with a strangled scream.

"That was more than I expected," she said shakily.

"It's almost done," I assured her. "Just hold still for a second, and it'll be over."

"Hold my hand?"

I took her hand at once. She never would have asked for such a thing before, but I was glad she could, now. We both took a deep breath, and I plugged the cable right back in. She flinched badly, trying not to move too much, biting back another scream.

"Almost done, almost done, you're doing great..."

I twisted the cable securely into place, and it connected with another painful-sounding jolt. She gasped suddenly and blinked several times, as if some revelation had occurred to her.

"It's done. It's fixed," I announced, pulling my hand out of her works and re-fastening the catch. She suddenly looked a lot better. In fact, she sat up straight as a pin. She was still breathing hard, and her hands were shaking a little, but she looked pleasantly surprised and impossibly relieved to have control over her body again.

"Well? How do you feel?" I asked.

A smile spread across her face. "...Great. I feel great!" She exclaimed, pulling my face against hers for a long, sweet kiss. I couldn't help but melt into her; I was so glad she was feeling better. Seeing her so placated had been horrifying. Now that this was over, the world was right again.

"That's good to hear—and see," I laughed. "I can't tell you how good it is to see my lively, passionate 7 again. I've missed you."

"I've missed myself," she answered, resting her head comfortably on my shoulder. "I've been trapped like that before. I hate not being able to move."

"A whole day is a lot of time to be trapped."

"A whole day… You're right, that is _entirely_ too long, stuck in bed, unable to move," she agreed, all but jumping out of my arms, off the bed, and to the door.

"At last, I can go to them, myself," she said solidly. Her voice, her spirit, her whole self—she had recovered so perfectly, it was like she hadn't been sick at all. "I had wanted to, so badly, but… You're coming, right?"

"Of course," I agreed, grabbing my light stick from the wall and following her out.

"I'm so glad that you finally finished that thing," she commented, her fingers intertwined with mine. "It's been on your mind for weeks."

I sighed happily, and admired my work. "I am very pleased it's done. It made things so much easier while I had it; I can't believe how we've gotten by without it."

7 laughed hoarsely. "Like our door and our bed. How on _earth_ did we live before you came along and started _building_ things?"

"You managed somehow," I pointed out, kissing her face. No words could describe how happy I was that she was alright. I felt as great as she did.

As we stepped into the study and I turned the light stick on, a very different energy filled the space. Something menacing, angry, and sort of terrified was in the air—our parental senses could feel it. Listening closely, we could hear furious flickering from the other side of the study, and quiet, fearful crying.

We exchanged a single worried glance, and then sprinted across the cluttered floor. As we got closer, we could hear what the twins were flicker-yelling at each other, and none of it was pleasant.

"_Why would you do this? Why would you make me do this?"_

"_It's for your own good, sis! Why won't you help me? You're my twin sister—you're supposed to be helping me!"_

"_No, 3, no! I can't let you do this to him!"_

"_Traitor! Don't you know what's going to happen to us if we don't?"_

What could have happened in so little time? Listening to this, we were growing more and more worried with every step. We slid to a stop facing a bottom shelf, mostly enveloped in murky shadows, and the two of us stood in the last threshold of light before it. 3 stood with his back to us, his sister backed into an inescapable corner, but staring him down—and fending him off… with a knife? And 0 cowered behind her on his knees, clinging to her leg, and sobbing miserably.

"_What could happen?"_ 4 demanded, looking up and noticing us standing there, watching this. _"He's only a little boy! He's our brother!"_

"_He's a monster! Look what he's already done! Mama may be dying because of him! And does anybody care? No! He's too __adorable_ _to get in trouble, isn't he? And what if he stays? Babies need attention, 4—lots of attention. They care so much more about him, how much longer before they forget about __us__?"_

"_Mama and papa would never forget about us. Look how much we've been through together. We all mean the world to each other!"_

"_If we're so important to them, why'd they make __him__?"_ he demanded, pointing a sharp, accusing finger at 0, who clung desperately to his sister's leg for shelter.

"_And stop your crying!"_ he went on. _"What do you have to cry about? Everyone loves you, you never get in trouble for anything, and soon, our parents won't care about either of us because of you! Everything that's happened has been your fault, and you'll never get in trouble for any of it! I'll bet me and 4 get blamed for all of it!"_

"'4 and _I_', you mean," I corrected, partially out of instinct, but also to get his attention. He whirled around, completely surprised to hear my voice. But when he saw that 7 was with me, a look of abject horror crossed his face.

"…_Mama?"_

True to form, she didn't give him an inch. Her energy returned, she stormed after him like a goddess of war—I thought I could see the storm clouds, crackling with lightening, looming around her. Before he could move at all, she had snatched his wrist in one hand and the back of his hood in the other. Try as he might to wriggle away, there was no escape from her grip.

"What is this!" she roared in his face. "You didn't _really_ think you could do this, did you? After everything I said last night, did you _really_ think I was kidding? How dare you!"

"_Mama, no, please!"_ he begged fearfully. I wondered what he hoped to accomplish this way—it wasn't in 7's nature to grant mercy to someone who begged for it.

However, she paused for a moment, looking from him to our other children, huddled together in the corner.

"…Fine," she said harshly, and then tossed him roughly toward me.

"Talk to him," she instructed me, and then turned to 4 and 0. As she knelt with them on the floor, I furiously grabbed 3 by the wrist and hauled him away. Once again, there were simply no words for how I felt. I had never felt so outstandingly _angry_ in my whole short life—though the few times that had come close, I realized had all been directed at 1.

That made me wonder a little at my son. I dragged him back behind the scrapbook, fairly out of sight and earshot of the others. The light from the light stick cut through the dark, leaving odd, dramatic shadows against everything. With a roughness I hadn't known I was capable of, I pinned him against the back of the book with the light bulb in his face, so I could see him.

"What is wrong with you?" I demanded. "Why are you doing this to them? Tell me why you're doing this!"

"_I want him gone!"_

"Well, he's not going anywhere, do you understand me? 0 is _not_ replacing you or your sister, and he's no more important than you. 4 was right last night, you've been nothing but a pain since he came home. And we warned you last night, if you were bad to anyone, you would be in trouble. Why are you so surprised by this? We told you how it would be! We spoke clearly, in words we know you understand, and you agreed. What did you _think_ was going to happen?"

"…_I don't know."_

"That is not an answer. Tell me right now what you thought would happen when we found out you attacked them."

"…_I thought, if I could get to him first, I could make you all understand…"_

My heart nearly stopped, and my non-existent stomach did a somersault. What the hell had gotten into him? By the powers that be, he sounded just like… I couldn't stand thinking of my own son in such a vile way, but he sounded _exactly_ like 1, and it made me sick.

"3, are you trying to kill him?"

"…"

"Answer me!"

"…_If you won't make him go away, then I will!"_

"No…" I shook my head and backed away from him, horrified, wondering who this was and what he had done with my son. "You would kill your own brother?"

"_He's not my brother. I'll never call 0 my brother!"_

"You can say that all day, but it doesn't change anything, boy. I knew someone once, who killed _his_ brother so that he could be on top. He was jealous and angry tried to solve his problems with violence. Remember how well _his_ story turned out?"

"_I'm not like him!"_

"You have no idea how wrong you are. You're _nothing_ like my 3. My son is a good boy. He's kind, and sweet, and would take care of his brother. Get out of my house, whoever you are, and bring back my son. _You_ can't stay here."

"_I'm not going anywhere."_

It was like he was trying to see how much he could infuriate me before I snapped and strangled him. And, to be honest, I nearly did. Instead, I found myself in his face, shouting at the top of my lungs.

"Then you will _not_ leave this place!" I thundered. "You're going to stay here, in this globe, until I _say_ you can come out! I don't want you near the rest of us—only _I_ will come in and out of here, starting today! And we'll begin with _one month_, and see if that changes your attitude at all, do you understand me?"

His eyes went wide. _"One whole month?"_

"Yes. To begin with—you will stay in here longer, if you have to. That's an entire 30 days with me, without your mother, without your sister, and certainly without your brother to bother you. An entire 30 days to sit in here alone to think about what you're doing and if it's worth it. _You_ have earned this. 0 has nothing to do with it, and I will _not_ let you carry on this way," I informed him gravely, and turned and walked away, feeling very sick of his face, and kind of glad to not have to look at him for a while.

"I have no idea what damage has been done here," I concluded as I stalked away. "But I am the head of this family, and I _will_ see it repaired."

Before I got too far away, I looked over my shoulder and added, "Between your mother and I, the fact that you're still alive is a miracle. You think about that while you're stuck in here."

I thought about that, myself, as I walked back to the others. And he thought we didn't care about him anymore? We were _so_ mad at him. How many times could we have strangled him to death for what he had done? The mere fact that we hadn't was proof that we _must_ still care, somehow. How else, but with love, could it be explained? Thanks to that funny thing called love, I felt a mix of mercy and pity for 3—a conflicting feeling of wanting to trust him and give him another chance, and knowing that, if my family was really important to me, that I simply couldn't do that. Not yet. Something had bent him severely out of shape. I was in a position to bend him back, the way he should be. By the time I found the others again, the thoughts I had arrived at assured me that I had done the right thing.

They clearly didn't feel the same. 0 sat in his mother's lap, still crying miserably into her shoulder, while she held him close in one arm, rocking him gently and humming a soothing tune. In her other arm, she cuddled 4; she had her own small hand on 0's shoulder, with a sad, resigned look on her face. Like she couldn't cry anymore, because she wasn't the littlest anymore, and more was now expected of her. She was suddenly such a grown-up young lady. I was so proud of her.

Using my light stick for support, I knelt beside them and patted 0 on the head. He turned his head and looked up at me, his green eyes gleaming in the light as if he could really cry tears. He climbed awkwardly out of 7's lap, and I scooped him up in my free arm.

"I thought he was gonna hurt me, pa," he sniffled into my shoulder.

"So did I," I answered, rising to my feet. "But I'm not going to let anyone or anything hurt you, okay?"

He nodded his head, too chocked by sobs to answer with words. Beside me, 7 had helped 4 stand up, but her knees were knocking, and all of her small form trembled.

"…_A __whole__ month, papa?"_ she flickered meekly._ "Really?"_

I hadn't imagined they wouldn't have heard me yelling so loud. I sighed heavily, not exactly sure what I could say that would comfort her.

"There's not much else I can do, sweetie. I'm not letting anyone put any of you in danger."

She wilted heavily against her mother, and finally began to cry. _"We've never been apart like this…"_

7 held her tight and rocked her a little. "I am sorry, little one. I am _so_ sorry this had to happen to you."

"_I was only trying to do the right thing."_

"You did do the right thing; and we're proud of you," she answered in her motherly way. "But your father's right. 3 put you both in a very bad place today. It isn't fair of him to make you pick sides—there _aren't_ any sides. And you're only a little girl, dear; you shouldn't have to stand between your brother and harm. That's our job."

She was right about that. The role of a sister is that of a guide, and a friend. It was unfair to force her into the role of a parent, of a fortress and defender. It seemed like the list of offenses 3 had committed was growing deeper and deeper. I decided, ultimately, not to worry about it too much from now on. 30 days was a lot of time, and 3 was a thoughtful little boy. He had all the time in the world to reflect on everything he had done.

"Let's get them out of here," I suggested after a pause. "I still need to block the entrance, somehow…"

"You're right," 7 agreed dryly, swinging 4 up onto her hip, "and I share your enthusiasm. This isn't going to be a ton of fun for any of us, will it?"

I shook my head. "But it's for the best, I think."

She sighed and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Well, I know you'll do the right thing for us all. You would never steer us wrong. I have faith in you."

That was comforting, at least. In the midst of all this chaos, with two of my children scared and crying, and the other one banished for the next month, I couldn't help but smile at her touch. Not entirely sure what to expect, I led them back out of the globe in silence.

I prayed that nothing else would go wrong. Apparently, there were a lot more repairs to be done around our home than I had thought…

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Author's Notes…

I don't believe I have written anything quite so tense in a while.

I will say this, about corporal punishment, though: when I was a little girl, I would slam my bedroom door and lock my parents out. When spanking didn't work like it would have on a nice, normal little girl, mom and dad _took my door off the wall for a month_. I never slammed doors _or_ locked people out again. As a young woman who started out as a rebellious and awkward child—and as a young woman with a 5-year-old brother—I believe strongly corporal punishment, in moderation, and you can bet your bottoms that my children _will_ be spanked soundly _and _grounded for major insubordinance.

Such as, say seriously attempting to murder their siblings…


	9. Chapter 8: Explorers

Raciness is rampant in this chapter. So, just for this chapter, I'm bumping up the rating up from whatever all-encompassing rating it is, to M.

Chapter 8: Explorers

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To keep 3 from escaping the study, I blocked the entrance by placing a heavily charged magnet in front of the door. Being bigger and stronger, I wasn't effected as much, and could touch it without blacking out. The children, however, couldn't get within a few inches of it without being knocked unconscious by the charge. With the magnet sitting on the floor in front of the entrance, there would be no coming or going—except for me. I went back in only once, to retrieve the toy box that 0 and 4 had left, and I didn't intend to return for quite some time.

Having the toys back put them at ease, and I was glad of that. 7 and I had no idea what to do now. While they sat in our room, playing with their toys and not dwelling on the matter, the two of us wandered off to talk.

"What could have caused this?" she wondered.

"He thinks 0 is here to replace him," I answered. "I don't know how he got that idea in his head."

7 scoffed angrily. "It certainly isn't true. Do you think… Do you think that he feels threatened just because 0 is a boy? Would it have been any different if he had been a girl? Or do you think that would have just offended 4, instead, and it would have been the same, but in reverse?"

"That is an awful lot of questions, and I don't have a real answer for any of them."

She sighed and rubbed her temple with the corner of her palm. "Oh, this is just a nightmare… Will it ever end?"

"I know a thing or two about nightmares, my dear. They all come to an end, eventually. But some last longer than others, before they pass."

"Will this punishment even work for 3? What good does it do, trapping him in the study? I've seen them both stay in there for weeks without leaving."

"But have they ever done that separated like this?"

"Oh…" she considered slowly.

We stopped in the lee of another toppled pile of books. I sat down on one of them, and she leaned back tiredly against the pile. "I think he needs to be by himself, with only his thoughts to keep him company," I continued. "He needs to sort himself out, and he needs to do it by himself."

She was silent for a moment. "I'm going to miss my little boy. Even when I ran before, we'd found each other again in only a week or two. But that week or two that we were apart, I felt so… _empty_." She laughed a short, hoarse laugh. "He always said that I was made to be a mother; the warrior in me came out to protect the children from… things."

"Things named 1 and 8?" I ventured.

"…Yeah. It's just, somehow, that got twisted into protecting everyone else from everything, and no one could be bothered to protect me from anything. All they could do was put me back together when I got hit too hard."

I already knew most of her story, and how some of her older, deeper wounds were still healing. The love that surrounded her had helped tremendously, I knew. The having a family to love, and be loved by in return, and the not having to be in total control all by herself—these were the best things in the world for her. For the first time, she had shelter, and comfort, and care, and few large worries to get in her way. For the first time, she could sit back and enjoy her family for what we were.

Not having to worry about things had been nice for me, as well. Having to worry about _this_, of all things, was slap ridiculous. 7 sighed again, and let her head sink into her hand.

"I already miss my brothers and my father so much," she commented. "I shouldn't have to miss my own son like this. Not when he's alive and whole, and still in the same building."

Darn it, she was better now. Why did she have to be so sad again? It was more than I could stand to see her so hurt. I stood back up and took her in my arms and rocked her slowly, like she did so often with the children. It was an odd motion, but it had a calming effect that we could all appreciate. And she did it for others so willingly, and so often. It was about time I did it for her.

"Things will get better, 7. You'll see," I assured her. "They just need some time. 0's loud and kind of wild, not really their kind of thing, right?"

"I wonder where he got _that_ from," she said, rolling her eyes.

I laughed softly, and ran my fingers along her face. "From a magnificent mother, that's where," I answered, giving her a quick kiss. "Just give them both some time to pull themselves together. When they've figured themselves out, I think they'll be great brothers."

"I know. They're very different from one another, but there are amazing opportunities… right? Or are we just being too optimistic?"

"Of course not, my love," I answered, strengthening the rocking motion until it was more of a gentle swaying back and forth. "It's a reasonable expectation, isn't it? Of parents, for their children to get along? It doesn't seem like a lot to ask."

"I don't think it should even have to be asked."

"Oh, let's not worry anymore about it. The problem's been dealt with, and now all we have to do is… well, wait for 30 days."

"That's a pretty long time."

"We'll figure it out, 7. It's not like we'll never see him again. And, when we do, he'll at least behave better. Everything will be fine."

It was so nice to be alone, for a change. It had admittedly been a while since we had had a moment completely to ourselves, without a child anywhere around. If it hadn't been one of the twins in our business, it was unborn 0 stuck between us, weighing her down. Within minutes, our swaying had turned into the easy steps of a slowdance to music only the two of us could hear.

It was strange. We had been side by side this whole time, but I had missed her so much. A terrific idea suddenly occurred to me.

"Hey, 7, when was the last time we… huh, _you know_…"

"Know what?" she teased.

"When was the last time we got any action? Just you and me?"

She laughed. "Action? What's _that_?" she joked. "Oh… It has been a while; since before 0 started getting big… Almost three months."

I shook my head, slowing to a stop. "That is an awfully long time. What do you suppose we should do about that?"

"Ooh… I can think of a thing or two we can do," she answered demurely, running her finger down my zipper. It tickled delightfully, and sent a thrilling chill down my spine. This was definitely going somewhere good.

"I can think of a certain lovely something we can do," I agreed, pulling her closer and laying several kisses along her neck and shoulder—a favorite of hers, I had found. "It could solve this dilemma of ours quite nicely, don't you think?"

Her breathing began to deepen, growing quicker and warmer against my skin. I let my hand wander down her back, over the patchwork of leather that hid her number-name, until the feel of her skin made my hand feel like fire. I gently kissed my way over her shoulder, up her neck, and across her face until my lips met hers, and there was no escape from each other. There was such intensity and passion in her, a strength and bright-shining glory that radiated from within, that just made her glow with all the beauty of an angel. I wondered if she saw something like that in me, as her fingers ran over every inch of my face, holding me as close as I was holding her.

I couldn't allow myself to question such a gift. Why should such a clumsy looser like me have the honor of such a perfect bride? How I could love such perfection was easy to see—but how could she love me back so much? My nature insisted that I ponder this mystery until I found a logical answer, but my heart reminded me that love was the only answer, and that it made no sense at all. To question such things is unwise, and to ponder them is a waste of time. Such things are to be marveled at with humility, and enjoyed for what they are. So I forced the urge to question out of my head, and just enjoyed the feeling of her soft, sweet body in my arms. I hoped—prayed—that I was making her feel even half as good as she was making me feel.

She suddenly pulled back a little and looked up at me with concern on her face.

"Is it alright to leave them alone like this?" What… What if—"

"Hush, hush," I interrupted. "Don't worry about things. They're all safe, now."

"But 3… What if he gets out?"

"He can't get out of that globe with that magnet in the way. And 4 will take care of 0, no matter what happens."

She glanced nervously back the way we had come; even I stayed still for a moment to look and listen. But nothing was happening. She sighed and fiddled flirtatiously with my zipper pull.

"I'm just paranoid, I suppose…"

"Don't be," I insisted, nuzzling her face. "Trust me: the next 30 days of our lives will be great—starting _right_ now."

And that was the end of it. I was determined to make the next month as comfortable as possible for all of us. And it seemed like we were off to a great start.

When we returned to our room, it seemed like 4 and 0 had gotten off to a great start, themselves—fabricated toy animals and pieces of 0's various costumes were scattered all over the floor. The bed was covered with bits of paper, which had short words and simple math figures scrawled on them. On any other day, 7 would have been very aggravated to find our room such a mess; but today, neither of us had the heart to be frustrated with them. Not after how scared they had been that morning; and not when we felt so good, ourselves. Instead, we joined them in their play.

After a while, our bedroom became too small for our make-believe adventures. We ventured out into the library as a party of four brave adventurers, and 0 had a special part for each of us to play—he insisted on being a samurai again. I, with my light stick, got to be the new warrior of light. 7, wearing her sparrow skull helmet and carrying her graceful spear, became the sparrow knight, and decided that she had the ability to speak with imaginary birds. I had never seen her use quite so much imagination before, and she enjoyed every second of it. 4 was dubbed a beastmaster, carrying around their menagerie of animal toys in a pocketbook she had made. They explained that whenever she tossed one of the toys at an imaginary foe, it would come to life, and only _she_ could control what it did.

"_They only understand my flicker-speak,"_ she told us proudly. _"0 decided on it."_

So we started off on our day-long adventure through the library, finding new imaginary monsters to battle at every turn. 7 and 0 landed many mighty blows, I cast several spells, and 4 ended up summoning _a lot_ of tigers and giraffes for aid. Surprisingly, we found lots of mysterious paths and caves to explore, and found a bunch of magical hidden treasure—but not before conquering whatever incredibly frightening thing was guarding it. By the time we returned home, it was late afternoon, and we were all duly and pleasantly exhausted.

Our bed wasn't big enough for all four of us, though; we had found it was barley big enough for the two of us with 0 in the middle. So I set out to look for materials for a pallet for 4, while they stayed behind and cleaned up the mess we had left. Luck favored the warrior of light: I found an old sitting chair, whose seat had been stuffed with fluffy pillow stuffing. Over the past years, the chair had sat there, falling apart; the fabric having large holes worn all over it, and its stuffing falling out on the floor.

I gathered as much of the stuffing as I could into a scrap of the chair's fabric and hauled it all back to my work room. Selecting a substantial bolt of cloth from my ever-growing collection, I quickly cut out and stitched a large bag, stuffed it with the stuffing, and sewed the top shut. It wasn't much, but 4 would like it better than sleeping on the hard floor. Perhaps I would upgrade it later? I slung the pallet over my shoulder and headed back to the room. I walked in the door to find the room nice and clean again, and my family sitting together on the edge of the bed. 7 sat in the middle, with a child on either side of her; she seemed to be telling them a story, for they were listening with rapt attention to what she was saying.

"…Then, one day, Puss told the miller's son, 'Follow my advice, and your fortune will be made! Go to the river, and bathe where I show you.' So the miller's son did as Puss told him. And, as he was bathing, the king passed by, riding in his coach with his daughter, the loveliest princess in the world."

"Ooh! Is that big sis?" 0 asked.

"I'm not sure," she answered. "Is that you?" she asked 4.

The girl giggled. _"Alright, it can be me."_

"'Cause big sis is _very_ lovely, huh, ma?"

"She is a very lovely little girl, indeed," she agreed, patting 4 on the head.

I paused for a moment to admire them all—what a remarkably good-looking family I had! They all looked up at me, and each of them smiled to see I had returned.

"Hi, everyone," I greeted them. "I hate to interrupt what sounds like a very good story, but I have something for you, 4," I explained, laying the pallet flat on the floor.

"_Oh yeah!"_ she exclaimed, jumping off the bed and hopping onto the pallet. _"It's all nice and soft, too! I feel all loved, just sitting on it. Thanks, papa,"_ she said, giving me a hug.

"You're most welcome, sweetie," I answered. "Hey, let's let your mother finish her story, huh? It sounded like a good one."

So she curled up in my lap, and we listened to the rest of 7's story. It was an odd and funny story, about a cat who wore boots—though, by their request, he was a tiger, instead. And, among other things, he slayed greedy ogres, and made his poor owner into the ruler of a grand kingdom. At the end, he married the lovely princess, which irritated 4 a little bit.

"_I'm getting pretty tired of having to marry all these princes at the end of all these stories,"_ she complained. _"It's nice, I guess, and I'm very flattered that all these rich princes want to marry me all the time… But that's an awful lot of princes to marry, don't you think, papa?"_

"I'm sure that you deserve better than any of them, anyway," I answered resolutely, not sure how I felt about my only daughter marrying _anyone_. She was only a child, after all.

She made a face and added, _"I'm gonna quit being the princess, if I have to marry another prince I don't know. Why can't __I__ have the fun adventures in any of these stories?"_

0 burst into giggles. "You're so funny and smart, big sis! I can be the prince in the stories, if you want, so you don't have to marry a stranger in every one."

"_Ew! I love you, 0, but I don't want to marry my little brother. Gross!"_

It was amazing how perceptive they could be. While I helped 4 get settled on her pallet, 0 yawned wide.

"Ma, pa, big sis, let's do all of this _every_ day," he suggested with a sleepy smile.

"_Do all what, 0?"_ she asked.

"Go on adventures, and tell stories and stuff. It's so much fun."

"Hm… Maybe we will," 7 mused, laying him down beside her. "We did have a lot of fun today, didn't we?"

"We sure did! Didn't we, pa?"

"I'll say we did," I agreed, winking at 7. She giggled and winked back. With that, I climbed into bed, myself, and we were all happily asleep in minutes.

_Very_ happily asleep. You know what I mean.

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Author's Notes…

Not what I'm used to writing, as you know. But fun. And tasty. Ew, gross…

Now that this mass-update is complete, I feel like I can move right along to the meat and potatoes. I didn't like deviating from the point like this, since 3 is supposed to be the focus, but I just…

Ug. It's 9 and 7, and they're married. I just had to give them _something_! This may or may not happen again… I haven't decided yet.

But I'm leaning toward yes…! Thanks a lot, Barn Owl Girl. Now I'm all spazzed and hyped up. :P If you're reading this, go to her profile and read _Seven Days_ and _10_. Both are excellent!

More mass-update soon, most likely as not…


	10. Chapter 9: Thirty Days

Chapter 9: Thirty Days

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The next day was the official start of our one whole month without 3. And, at first, none of us were sure what to do. But we quickly came to an agreement: that 0's idea, to go on adventures and tell stories _every day_ was actually a really great plan. 0 would have a chance to explore the outside, which he hadn't seen much of yet—only the few blocks we had walked down on our way home from the first room. And, already, the library was getting a little too small for him. His energy was as boundless as his mother's and his curiosity as limitless as mine; we had hoped for as much.

And so, that's pretty much what we did, almost every day, for the entire month. We woke up in the morning, spent most of the day outside, and came home in the late afternoon. We worked together to teach 0 a lot of things in that time, as well. 4 taught him more about letters and numbers; by the end of that time, he could read and write small words and short phrases in three different languages, which she claimed was impressive—not that we needed it spelled out. He picked it up faster than she could teach it.

7 taught him to build weapons, and how to fight. Against what? It didn't matter. For sure, there was danger somewhere that would threaten him one day. And, anyway, he was a samurai warrior, and he wanted to fight evil. Better to prepare him, and make him strong, she decided. He showed him how to build a spear, and how to cut a basic knife out of a tin can, and how to sharpen the blades; his progress made her very proud. But he wasn't particularly good with either of them. For a samurai warrior, being so close to an enemy and landing a killing blow made him uncomfortable, even though all of his enemies so far had been completely imaginary.

So I suggested a compromise: a bow and arrows. She had made a set once upon a time, but hadn't been particularly fond of it—which was strange, because the slender, graceful bow she had constructed was a very feminine-looking weapon. But I had picked it up recently, and I had turned out to be pretty good with it, myself. So, we combined our efforts and helped him make a bow of his very own, and a set of arrows to practice with. As we had hoped, he excelled with it. For such a young child, him aim was very good.

Our practice together made me wish suddenly that there was really something to hunt with our bows. Instead, I preyed on findings to build with—no living thing could be more thrilling to hunt for than the elusive unbroken light bulb, and the apparently endangered flat-topped battery, both of which I desperately prowled after. It was like hunting down a fairytale monster, or some mythical being from folklore. They had been found once or twice before and recorded, but finding them again seemed impossible.

While I was at it, coming across other useful findings in the process, I taught 0 everything I knew about them. I taught him how gears worked together, how their jagged teeth were for more than just making a cool-looking crown for his costumes. I showed him the difference between screws and nails, and how they were best used, outside of swordplay. I taught him a few basic laws of physics—learned from books, and also from trial and error—and how to use them whenever he wanted to build something. He was eager to try to build something… Except he didn't know what to build.

"Pa, I have to build _something_," he insisted, burning with frustration. "You're always building stuff. Why can't I? Why am I not always building stuff?"

"Sometimes, you need a reason to build things," I answered. "Other times you need inspiration."

"What's that? Big sis talks about inspiration, but she never says what it is."

"It's when you suddenly get a really amazing idea for something wonderful," I explained. "But, usually when I build something, it's a little bit of having a need for a new tool, and a little bit of being inspired by that need… Does that make any sense to you, 0?"

"…Um, not really."

"Well, you see, I don't just sit around, coming up with great ideas and then making them happen."

"You don't? I thought that's where all your good ideas came from!"

"Not really, son. I build the things I build because we all need them. Like my light stick," I explained, trying to shorten and simplify the story. "I needed light, but I didn't have any matches to make a fire. And I needed to carry the light around with me. So, I had to improvise."

"Oh… And you were _inspired_ by all the stuff around you?"

"Yeah! That's it, exactly! You catch on quick."

0 grinned proudly, but then he made a face. "So, I'm gonna have to wait until I'm stuck somewhere to get a good idea? That's no fun… What else do we need around here?"

"I'm never completely sure. We have to figure that out as we go along. Needs are hard to define, sometimes. Once again, like the light stick: it's not really a _need_. We have matches and candles—we can make fire and have light without it. But it's awfully useful, isn't it?"

"It sure is, pa. It's a great tool."

"Once we have the basic things we need, we can start thinking about ways to make those basic things better. Like using a light bulb for light, instead of fire that can burn, and leaves ash and smoke behind. Or like taking your sister's pallet on the floor, and putting it in a frame so that it's actually a bed."

0's whole face lit up. "Ooh, I can build _that_! I can make a frame for 4's pallet!"

"That's a big job for such a small boy."

You're right, pa," he agreed with a goofy shrug. "I don't really know what a frame is, yet… Will you help me, please?"

"Of course," I agreed with a smile. "I'll teach you to make blueprints, and then we can use some of the nails we've found, and we'll build it over the next few days, huh?"

"Yay! Big sis is gonna be so happy!" He jumped up and down, clapping his hands excitedly, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him. This would be the first thing we built together, where he would actually be working instead of watching over my shoulder.

In the midst of my excitement, the scar on my shoulder twinged again, and I sighed slowly.

"Oh, 0… 2 would have loved you so much…" I said absently as I ran my fingers over the red stitches. I almost didn't realize I was speaking out loud. 0 clearly didn't know what I was talking about; but it sounded like a compliment, so he smiled. I felt like I would cry, torn between grief that was still fresh, and joy over my marvelous creation.

"We're going to have a lot of fun building this, aren't we, 0?"

"Oh yeah, lotsa fun," he agreed earnestly. "When do we start?"

0 turned out to have a little artistic talent, as well. He took to designing and drawing blueprints as quickly as I had—a natural talent that I was thrilled to share with him. In a few hours, we had a thorough design, with calculated dimensions and a list of materials to find.

"We'll make one of these for big brover, when he gets out, right?" he asked.

"Yeah… I suppose we will," I agreed.

While all of this was going on during the day, I made it a point to check in on 3 every night before I went to sleep. Despite how mad I was with him, I still couldn't help but miss him very much. He was angry with all of us, as well, but part of me knew that he still missed us as much as we did him. And I hoped that his time in seclusion would lead him to reason.

As the month wore on, I watched the marked change in his attitude that I had hoped for. The first several nights, he wouldn't even look at me. The next week found him still angry, but contemplative and relaxed enough to speak a little.

"_I still feel like it's 0's fault I'm stuck in here,"_ was the sum of how he felt by the end of week two. I didn't bother to correct him on that. Instead, I let him chew on that a while longer.

Week three found him extremely lonely, and very sad. He missed us so much, 4 especially. The normal busy work he filled his time with was slow and tedious without her to help him; the absence of her serious, down-to-earth personality left him feeling a little top-heavy in his own goofy, dreamy nature. I, myself, had never noticed how very different they were until I had seen them apart for so long.

But he was thinking hard about his actions that week, and that partially made up for her being gone. The conclusions he was coming to were changing him, and that comforted me. It was exactly what I hoped for in this punishment.

At last, week four rolled around. On the last night, I sat down with him for a talk.

"So, you can come out of here, in the morning," I started. "How are you feeling?"

"_Excited," _he answered with a sheepish smile. _"I've missed you all so much… Even 0, a little."_

"Really? How do you feel about him, after all of this?"

He sighed. _"It's not really his fault I've been stuck in here all month. It was mine,"_ he admitted. _"I don't know what got into me. I was just… I was so angry at everyone."_

"Jealous? Betrayed, maybe?"

"_Maybe, a little."_

"And about him, being your little brother?"

"…_I still don't know…"_

"You know, your mother and I won't make you feel any one way about anything. But 0 _is_ a part of this family now. He's not going anywhere, you know that, right?"

"_Yes, sir."_

"And you won't attack him again?"

"_No, sir."_

Now _that_ was more like it.

"This seclusion seems to have worked well for you. You don't have to like everything that we do; but we will punish you again, if we have to. We don't want to—you're our son, and we hated having to do this. Please, don't make us lock you up like this again."

"_I won't."_

"3, I'm not kidding. If you make us do this again, it _will_ be worse. Look me in the eye and tell me that you understand."

Looking me straight in the eye, he nodded slowly.

"_I understand, papa,"_ he said humbly.

"Okay, then," I said with a relieved sigh, and I gave him a warm hug—the first I had held him in thirty days.

"_I'm really sorry, papa."_

"I forgive you, son."

"…_Really?"_

"I'm your father—it's what I'm here for," I answered, kissing his forehead. "When we say that we love you unconditionally, we mean it. Nothing you say or do can ever change that, no matter how horrible it is. This is your home, and we are your family. We will always, _always_ love you. And we'll always forgive you, if you ask us to."

"_I do want them all to forgive me."_

"And they will. All you have to do is ask them to."

"_I will."_

I smiled, unable to help feeling proud of him. "Good. We'll see you in the morning, then."

As I left the study, I picked up the magnet from the entrance and carried it away, feeling like I could finally trust him again.

Day thirty-one dawned like any other. But we all woke up, and 3 wasn't around. We carried on for an hour or two, and he still hadn't shown up.

"_Where could he be?"_ 4 wondered fretfully. _"I was so looking forward to seeing him, after all this time…"_

"I'll go look for him," I decided, and went back to the study. When I walked in, I found him pacing the floor nervously.

"What are you doing, still in here?" I asked. "You can finally come out. I thought you, of all people, would wake us all up."

"_I did, too,"_ he answered. _"But… I thought about it some more last night… I don't deserve to get off so easy, do I?"_

That was a rather hard question.

"You did some pretty mean things to them."

"_Exactly! What if they don't want to talk to me? What if they're still mad at me?"_

"Are you serious?" I asked with a laugh. "They're all dying to see you again. You can't imagine how much they want to see you."

"_I'm scared… I don't know if I can face them."_

"You have to."

"…"

"Come on," I said gently, taking him by the hand. "I'll go with you."

He took a deep breath. _"…Okay."_

I led him back into the library, to where the others were waiting. While I had been gone, 4 and 0 had picked up another math lesson; 7 sat quietly watching them, enchanted by their every move. But when we walked into the space, they all looked up at once. They all seemed stunned to see 3 in the flesh again, as if they had given up hope that he was real anymore. And he looked to feel the same.

"Everyone, 3 has something to say to you," I announced, nudging him forward a bit. In a rare gesture that I had never seen before, he pushed his hood off his head so that his whole face was visible.

"…_I… I'm sorry,"_ he flickered timidly, hanging his head. _"I'm __so__ sorry for what I did. I want to ask for forgiveness, but…"_

He didn't get a chance to continue. When he hesitated, 4 jumped up and ran to embrace him, her own hood falling back in the process. As she threw her arms around his neck, she began to cry. He could only stand there, stunned.

"_Dumb! Don't ever do that to me again! It felt like I would never see you again!"_

Amazed that she would accept his apology so quickly, he recovered and hugged her back. _"I am sorry, 4. I'll never leave you again, I promise,"_ he insisted, dissolving into tears of his own. _"It was wrong of me, and I'm so sorry, sis! Can you please forgive me?"_

"_Of course I can. You're my brother,"_ she answered.

I smiled to myself. I told him they'd be happy to see him.

7 came forward next, with 0 hiding understandably behind her. She was grinning so brightly, overjoyed to see him again. He looked up and just stared at her shyly, as if he had thought she was a dream.

"Don't I get a hug?" She asked, holding out her hand to him.

He all but flew into her waiting arms. As she caght him, she picked him up and spun him around, laughing merrly the whole way.

"I've missed you so much," she said as she set him back on his feet, and hugging him as tight as she could. "Are you okay?"

_"Yeah... I'm great,"_ he answered, snuggling comfortably against her.

She cupped his face in her hand and took a moment to just look at him. He looked exactly like his sister in every way, but there was simply something about him being _him_ that made his face entirely different. She hadn't seen her son's face in a month... I had seen him every night; I couldn't imagine how happy 7 was to see him again.

She laughed softly, running her thumb along his cheek. "I forgive you, too."

Though his lip trembled, he beamed back at her. _"Thank you, mama,"_ he said with a sniffle.

"...This next apology, you should make face-to-face," she said, reaching behind her and pulling 0 front and center. The green-eyed little monster stood bravelt before his brother, but clung to his mother—just in case.

The green-eyed monster, huh? When we had decided to give 0 green eyes, we had thought it was perfect. It made him completely different from the rest of us, a sign thay _we_ were responsible for him and his creation. Green was always the color of rebirth and life, like the grass. What an ironic twist it had to it...

3 sighed heavily and stared down at 0. He slowly reached out and patted him on the head.

_"0... I'm sorry. What I did and said to you, it was all wrong of me. Nothing that's happened has been your fault. None of it. It was all me. I was angry and... well, jealous, I guess. Can you __please__ forgive me... little brother?"_

0 paused and processed this for a moment... And then broke into a grin.

"Yeah! I'll forgive you, big brover," he exclaimed, launching himself into 3's unprepared arms. He nearly fell over from the force. But, once he regained his balance and put his arms around his brother, hugging him back.

_"Wow... You really __are__ snuggly and warm," _he said quietly.

Atast, we were a family again.

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Author's Notes...

Don't let this warm, fuzzy ending fool you. If you know this parable, you know that its not over by a long shot! 8D

This is kind of meaningless, but... Has anyone else noticed how they always say "as well", instead of "too"? We have entirely _too_ many uses and spellings for this word! Between to, too, two and tu-tu, what are we supposed to do? I've worked hard to avoid using "too" to mean "also". When that happens in the dialogue, given that 2 was the first of them to get whacked, it seems insensitive and sad, to me.

Its like the Knights Who Say Ni, and how the word "it" hurts their brains. The English language is such a pain! I hate it! DX

These next three chapters really belong together in another mass-update, so I've done that. :P


	11. Chapter 10: Nightmare

Chapter 10: Nightmare

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After that long month without 3, it was good to be a family again. He still seemed to be defensive about 0, and I couldn't understand it. At least, his attitude was much better. If he had trivial problems with anything, he kept them to himself.

_"He's really loud, though,"_ 3 often complained. _"He just makes so much noise, all the time, and it's __so__ annoying!"_

I could see how he might be annoyed. 0 was only a little boy, and he didn't know any better. But he did insist on using some kind of energetic sound effect for every move that he made. Wherever he went, there was sure to be superfluous noise. The rest of us thought it was cute; the rest of us seemed to have been designed to tolerate such silliness. I was a pretty noisy guy, myself. But 3 found it nothing short of irritating and distracting.

However, we all agreed that 0 needed a lesson or two—or twenty—in picking up after himself. As the days went by, he collected more and more pieces for his costumes. He could be a great many things in the space of a day, from a cowboy, to a deep-space knight, to a lion cub, to his favored samurai warrior, and so _many_ more. That was also adorable... Until I ended up tripping on one of his capes. Or until 7 walked into our room one morning, and found the floor cluttered with pieces of several other costumes he had worn for five minutes before changing out of.

That was the final straw for her. It was a library, after all: she punched a small rectangle out of a tin can, wrote the words _Library Card_ on the front, and his number-name on the other side. Instead of using it to check out books, he would be using it to check out costumes from his stuffed costume bin. She then made him spend a whole day picking up the pieces he had left scattered in our common spaces, and she made him organize them all. After that, if he wanted to take one out, he had to hand her the card before he made a selection. And he couldn't exchange one for another until he had worn the first for at least four hours. When he was done, he had to put the pieces back in their proper places, and she returned him the card. It was a brilliant system, and it worked quite well.

I also had to make a few rules about costumes—mainly, that they weren't allowed in my workroom anymore. Too many capes had snagged on things, and too many errant swords had knocked things over. If 0 was going to work with me, he had to be _just_ 0. No samurai, no knights, and certainly no lions. It disappointed him a little, but he ultimately didn't mind. He was happy to come as he was to help me.

And work, we did. Our first project, a bed frame for 4's pallet, had been a huge success. It was little more than a long box that fit the pallet's dimensions, raised on four short legs, so she would be off the floor. She had been thrilled that our first project together had been for her. She said that sleeping in her new bed made her feel safe and warm, like sleeping in a constant embrace. That made 0 very proud.

Now that 3 was back in the picture, 0 insisted that his brother needed a bed, as well. In fact, he wanted to build a new bed _on top_ of the one we had already built. I didn't understand what he meant at all, until he drew me a rough sketch of two beds, one on top of the other, the top bed held up from the bottom by long poles.

"Big sis says it's called a bunk bed," he explained. "They always thought it was a great idea, and they always wanted one. Can we make 4's bed into a bunk bed for them, pa? Can we do it? _Pleeeeease_?"

Seeing his drawing, it made a lot more sense. What a brilliant idea! And how come I hadn't thought of it, myself? It was the perfect concept, for two young children. I kind of wanted a bunk bed now... Except, well, it seemed better suited for siblings to share; all the people I had considered to be my siblings were dead, now. Once again, my shoulder twinged beneath its scar, as it always did when I thought of 5. To clear my head, I thought of something else—how much nicer it was to sleep curled up beside my wife, in our one larger bed. If one of us was stuck on the top bed and the other stuck on the bottom, I wouldn't appreciate the ingenuity anymore. She probably wouldn't, either.

But the twins would appreciate it. I could see in my head how it would look, how it would fit together, and where every nail and screw would go. Being "older", for all intents and purposes, 3 would want the top, I supposed; a dreamer, his head ended up in the clouds a lot, anyway. Serious little 4 probably wouldn't mind that; the bottom bed would be hers, anyway. And she tended to think with her feet on the ground. This would work out just perfectly. 0 and I got started right away.

It went faster and easier, this time, as we built the top bed. It was just like the first time, except we didn't build the legs on. Instead, we found four long planks of wood that would work nicely. One day, instead of following the others into the ruins, the two of us stayed behind to work. I did most of the work, of course; 0 helped me by handing me nails when I asked for them. When that was done, he found a task that he could complete all by himself: he could measure and cut cloth, and stitch it any way he wanted it, now, so he made the pallet for 3's new bed. With the addition of a ladder and a few quickly-sewn blankets, the bunk bed was complete.

When they got back, 0 ran to the twins and hauled them back to the study to show them our work. You can only imagine the looks on their faces.

_"No way!"_

_"It's amazing!"_

_"I call the top! I come first!"_

_"You can have it. My bed came first!"_

3 scurried up the ladder and flopped down, and 4 did the same below. It was so charming, how something as basic as a bed made them so happy. It must have been all the love we made it with.

_"This is amazing,"_ 4 flickered with a mute sigh. _"Papa, you and 0 did all of this?"_

_"Ha! So __that's__ why you stayed home today," _3 chimed in from the top.

While they enjoyed their gift, I picked 0 up and gave him a celebratory hug. 7 came up behind me and gently kissed my shoulder.

"You guys did good," she said sweetly.

"Yeah," 0 agreed. "We did do good, didn't we, ma? Do you like it?"

"I love it. It was great of you to do this for them. You've made them really happy. You should be proud."

While he smiled, I got another really good idea.

"You know something, 0?" I asked. "Maybe, since we're getting so good at building beds, why don't we think about building one more?"

"For who?"

"For you. How would you like a bed of your very own, here in the study, with your brother and sister?"

His eyes went wide. "Really? And I'd sleep in here, with big sis and big brover? That sounds good! I'll miss you and ma, though…"

"Don't worry about that," 7 insisted. "If you have any problems, you know right where we are."

"Can I come back with you, if I get scared?"

"Sure. _But_, you are a very brave little boy, just like your papa, and you won't have problems, will you?"

0 put on his stern face—which was more adorable than stern. "Nuh-uh! I won't have problems, ma, 'cause I _am_ brave!" he proclaimed. He hopped down and ran to tell the twins all about it.

"Ah, finally," 7 whispered in my ear, slipping her arms around my waist. "At long last, we get our bed back, _all_ to ourselves."

"No more children in our bed? It's about time, is all I can say."

The next morning, 0 and I built his new bed, and moved all his things back into the study, where it had started out. The twins had already cleared him a space—even 3 seemed cautiously optimistic about it.

"_Just as long as he doesn't make a mess of our things, I don't really mind,"_ he said.

4 agreed, though she was happier to help 0 keep his things together. She was only a little older than him, but she kept throwing herself into the position of a surrogate mother, and she did so happily. But she knew that her twin would never find the same happiness in that, and it often got her down. She largely chose not to worry about it; they didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, anyway.

After all of this, a several months passed in a peaceful, busy blur, the way they had before 0 had come along. Now that he was here and all was settled, things returned to the way they had been. The only problems we had for a long time were silly disagreements between the children—like who _really_ got the top bunk, or who knocked this bottle of ink all over things without cleaning it up, or if 0 could ride the elevator alone.

The weather grew warmer and warmer, until we sometimes stayed inside for days. But we filled that time together, reading books, fighting off more imaginary monsters, and building things. By the end of the summer, I had even found what I needed to rig up a few more light bulbs in our common spaces. The grass grew tall, and a million types of weeds grew up over the ruins. And flowers with bright colors and strong, sprightly fragrance bloomed in the heat, filling the world with more color and depth than ever before.

The world had become a wonderful foil for my very handsome family, I thought.

Suddenly, the seasons began to change. It grew steadily cooler, and the world that had begun to spring back so nicely began to shrink away again. All the grass, weeds, and wild flowers that had exploded in the summer heat began to fade, as the cool began to turn cold. Soon, we were waking up to find lacey frost covering the ground every morning. The twins said that we could expect to see snow soon.

One night, a few nights before the first snowfall, I was awake in bed, drifting off to sleep. As I did, I thought back over all that had happened over the summer and fall that had gone by so quickly. I felt like I had completely missed it, somehow; but I remembered each precious second perfectly. We had all become so much smarter and stronger in that time. All in all… we had done remarkably well on our own, without our missing number. I couldn't help but sigh at that thought; most of them would have had as much fun as we had, if they had been with us. By the powers, they would have loved my son so much…

As always, 7 was the very last thing I saw and thought about before I fell asleep. She was already sleeping soundly, unaware of me anymore, but snuggled against me from the penetrating cold. I ran my hand along her milky skin, down the valley of her waist, up the hill of her hip, and all the way back. She was so pretty, and she seemed to become even more pretty every time I blinked. And she let me call her mine. I was too tired to feel unworthy—instead, I just felt blessed. Pure and simple.

I closed my eyes, fully ready to dream what dreams would come…

...

_I opened my eyes to wispy white clouds in a sky of pure blue, with grass growing tall all around me, and the sun shining warm on my face. I sat up and looked around. It was summer again. I didn't recognize where I was for a moment; the grass was so tall, I couldn't see over it._

_I stood up and looked around again. Now I knew where I was—we had come here often when it was hot. There was a ridge close by, where the wind would blow fast and cool across the ravine. It was blowing now, whistling through the grass, making it brush against me and tickle my sides. Other than that, it was amazingly quiet…_

"_Pa! Where are you?"_

_That was 0. I looked around and saw the top of his head peering over the grass. He turned and saw me, green eyes gleaming in the sun, and ran toward me, laughing and making his sound effects. He was so precious. I felt my heart melt from love and pride in him. I wanted to walk up and meet him, but I was suddenly paralyzed by emotion. I stood still, partially unable to move, until he burst through the grass before me._

"_Oh, good! Ma's wondering where you went," he exclaimed, grabbing my hand and leading me toward a nearby rock. We rounded it and found 7 and the twins, waiting in the shade. She was wearing her sparrow skull helmet, surveying the land, as if she expected to battle some unseen danger._

"_Ma, I found him," 0 announced, and ran off on his own to join his brother and sister. As the three of them ran ahead, 7 smiled sweetly and held out her hand to me._

"_Come on," she said, her voice like the sweetest song. "We've been waiting for you."_

_My heart nearly leaped out of my chest at the sight and sound of her. I felt like I would fall to pieces if I stayed still a second longer. Overwhelmed, I caught her hand and took off running. She ran right by my side, laughing all the way. I didn't even know where I was leading her, really; whichever way our children had gone, I supposed. I couldn't even see them anymore, but I was still too overcome to worry._

_We ran to the top of a low hill, right before the ridge, where the wind blew the hardest and the coolest. In the shallow valley beneath us, our two sons were having a daring sword fight with sticks, and 4 was sitting to the side, cheering her brothers on. We both laughed, glad to see them getting along—our greatest hope, a reality. She turned to me, her winning smile brighter than the hot, hot sun._

"_Oh, my 9," she sighed lovingly, reaching up and caressing my face, "I am _so_ happy you're here, with me."_

_It was so much more than I ever would have dared ask for. Words completely failed me. All I could do was take her in my arms and hold her close. So very close._

"_Isn't this everything you've ever dreamed of?" she asked, sweeping her arm over the landscape: the sun was shining, the grass was growing, our children played in a world that was safe, and there we stood, together. I took her hand and held it for a moment before raising her cool fingers to my lips._

"_It's more than I ever could have dreamed of," I answered. "Everything is perfect."_

_Her smile was more refreshing than the coolest breeze. I couldn't help myself anymore. Being careful of her helmet, I brushed my fingers against her cheek, and pulled her close for a long, passionate kiss. The heat beating down on us made every sensation feel more intense, and my head began to spin. She leaned heavily against me, sighing softly into my kiss, just as dizzy as I was. By the powers, she was so feminine, so pretty, so utterly magnetic. I had so little control over what I was doing; I felt my hand drifting down her face and neck, toward the catch on her chest. Her hand was also on the move, intent on my zipper pull. A little closer, and we would be in heaven, for sure. So close…_

_A scream suddenly pierced the air, snapping us both back to the real world. The sky had glazed over with menacing gray clouds, and the warmth of the sun had vanished. Instead, a chilling wind whipped across the ravine and through the valley. Below us, the twins were on their hands and knees at the edge of the ridge, peering down into the ravine. But someone was missing…_

"_0…" I realized, terrified that I knew what had happened. I dashed down the hill toward the ridge, trying not to let myself panic, and 7 ran after me. We skidded to a halt at the edge and looked down into the ravine. As we feared, 0 had fallen over the side, and was hanging from a gangly tree root for dear life._

_I dropped to the ground and held my hand out to him. "Come on, 0, take my hand," I called to him._

"_Pa, I'm scared!" he called back._

"_You don't have to be, baby, just take his hand," 7 pleaded. "You can do this, I know you can!"_

_He braced himself, and reached for me with one hand. I stretched my arm as far as I could, but… My heart constricted. He was too far down. I couldn't reach him. But I refused to give up, as long as I could see him. Surely, there was a way…_

"_I'm gonna fall! Don't let me fall, pa!"_

"_I'm not going to let you fall, 0! Just reach a little more!"_

_I could almost reach him. My fingers just barely met his. I was going to get him…!_

_With a sickening twang, the root he was hanging from snapped away from the ravine wall. He plummeted down, down, completely out of my reach. He screamed in terror, and the sound echoed all around us like thunder. All I could do was sit and watch in horror, as my son fell beyond my view, and his screaming faded._

_It was chillingly quiet for a second… He was gone. There was nothing more that I could do. How could that be?_

_On my one side, 4 was already in tears, flickered sobs wracking her body. One my other side, 7 stood stunned, staring down into the ravine, unable to believe what had just happened. But she trembled frightfully; the next moment, she had fallen on her knees with a heartrending, anguished scream._

"_My baby!" she wailed into her hands. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"_

_In the midst of all these tears, we heard the sound of low, cruel laughter behind us. We all turned to see 3, standing apart from us, with his back turned. He was laughing—not with flickers, but with a _voice_. A real voice. He slowly turned to face us, with a satisfied, evil smile on his face._

"I did this."

….

"No!"

I woke with a start and sat up straight as a pin, not completely aware of where I was. It was dark and cold, like what I had just come from. My heart was pounding, and my breathing was hard; if I could sweat, my whole body would have surely been drenched. Everything I had just dreamed was still so clearly imprinted in my mind—0 falling, 7 screaming, 3 speaking… A shiver raced up my spine.

A hand clutched my arm, and I jumped.

"9? What is it? What's wrong?"

Oh, thank goodness. It was 7. We were in our room, in our bed, and the nightmare was over. I felt suddenly exhausted, and sighed heavily as relief washed over me. I fell back on my pillow, and let my breathing slow a little.

"It was only a dream," I sighed, rubbing my temple gently. While I lay still, letting my heart rate come down, she reached over me for my light stick and twisted it on. The light illuminated her face, painting her white skin yellow and orange, like fire. She placed her hand against my chest and looked deeply, urgently into my eyes, her own full of worry.

"Another nightmare… Are you alright?" she asked.

I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close against me. "I'm fine… Oh, I might have known it would turn into a nightmare. You only wear that blasted helmet in my nightmares."

She laughed ruefully and nuzzled my face sweetly. She took my hand in hers and settled back beside me, laying her head on my shoulder. "Tell me about it."

I squeezed her hand and took a deep breath, trying to remember how it had started.

"Everything was so… perfect. It was beautiful… And then 0 fell down the ravine. I watched him fall and had to sit there, knowing there was nothing I could do for him. It was terrible."

She gasped softly, just as shocked as I has been, and snuggled closer. "I'm so sorry, 9. You, of all people, don't deserve to be plagued by these dreams."

"There was more, though," I continued. "It was 3… 7, do you think we can still trust him?"

"He hasn't given us a reason not to in a very long time."

"It was him. He pushed 0 over the side."

Though it stirred her a little, she shook her head. "Oh, 9, it was only a dream," she insisted.

I shivered again, unable to clear the vision from my mind's eye. All I could see was 3, and that monstrous look on his face. Something felt so _not right_ about my dream. Something worried me to the very core that, perhaps… This one could actually happen.

"I don't know if it's _just_ a dream."

"You've said yourself, nightmares pass, in time."

"But they aren't supposed to _come_ to pass. What if this one does?"

She propped herself up to look at me. "Why should it? 3 and 0 have had their disagreements, but brothers do that, sometimes. It doesn't mean they're going to destroy each other."

"7, I have a really bad feeling about this."

"Don't," she advised, leaning over and kissing my non-existent nose. "You're just shaken up; it's been a while since you've had a nightmare this bad. Just relax, and go back to sleep."

I didn't want to let it go so easily. The idea that my sons could be in some kind of trouble bothered me. What kind of father was I, if I didn't spring at the chance to help them? But then, the side of my mind that was still tired chimed in, and suggested that I listen to my notoriously wise wife. It was late, and I was frazzled and a little disoriented. Perhaps, in this fragile state, worrying about things was natural. If I could just get my mind to stop racing around, convince it to rest again, I would feel better.

"…Maybe you're right," I admitted slowly. I took a few deep breaths; already, I was beginning to feel more relaxed. And she seemed to relax, as well, the concern in her face replaced by relief.

"Dreams are funny things," she commented, "but they don't define who we are. We can always fight for the good ones, and fight against the bad ones. What defines us is how and when we choose to fight them."

I smiled, comforted by her words; but they were clearly not her own.

"Who said that?"

"2," she answered with a smile. "He always knew what to say, when we had bad dreams; somehow, he just always had this way of knowing."

"It helps. Thank you," I said, ignoring the twinge in my shoulder by kissing her, instead. She lay back down beside me and snuggled under the blanket, while I reached over and turned out the light. All of a sudden, my bad dream didn't seem so frightening anymore. When I woke up, I intended to fight against it with everything I was; but, for that, I needed my strength. I curled up under the warm blanket and held 7 close, kissing her forehead.

"Thank you, dearest."

"You're welcome," she answered sleepily.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

That was that, then. Now I could sleep in peace…


	12. Chapter 11: Betrayal

Chapter 11: Betrayal

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A few more days passed after my dream, all of them without incident. 7 had been right, as usual. It had been nothing but a nightmare, formed by little things that were on my mind at the time. I decided not to worry about it anymore, and turned my mind to what needed to be done to prepare for snow. We stitched up extra blankets—many of the double- and triple-thick—and made ourselves snuggly coats. Even with light bulbs set up around the library, our living spaces weren't very warm; the candles suddenly had a use again. Their bright, dancing flames kept us warm during the day.

I was feeling good about how the winter would go. Bring it on, snow! We were ready. One morning, we were woken suddenly by 0, bursting into our room and jumping on us excitedly.

"Ma! Pa! Get up, already! You gotta come see this! It's _everywhere_!"

We reluctantly climbed out from the warm blankets, still sleepy and a little peeved that he had done this _again_. He waited impatiently as we tugged on our coats and followed him out, to the entrance. Outside in the courtyard, every flat surface was covered with sparkling white, up to our knees. More of the downy flakes were drifting carelessly to the ground. The twins were already out, spinning in the snowfall, catching the flakes in their hands.

"Isn't it great?" 0 asked happily. "It's so pretty!"

I was a little stunned by the beauty of the snow. It was unlike anything I had prepared myself for. It almost made up for how cold it was. I wasn't sure what to do, now that it was here. 7 decided that I had stood in wonderment for too long and took me by the hand, pulling me away.

"Well? Staring at it isn't going to get anything done," she laughed. "Let's go look around!"

"Oh yeah" 0 agreed, running after us. "That's a great idea, ma! Maybe we'll find a snow beast, hiding in the snow."

So we started off into the ruins, as always, finding our old familiar paths again. The whole world looked entirely different, bathed in white, and gleaming like a single huge jewel when the sun came out. Our little corner of the city, that we had come to know so well over the spring and summer, seemed like a stranger. But, after wandering around for a while, we found it again. The children headed in a steady direction, intent on going somewhere, it seemed. 7 and I walked along behind them, not particularly caring where we went, as long as we were all together. Wherever they were taking us, we were sure it would be fun.

"Everything looks so clean," she commented. "All sparkling and pure… Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

"Eh," I dismissed with a shrug, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I've seen better. _Much_ better."

"Aw, 9…"

"I fall asleep beside better every single night."

"You are so sweet," she exclaimed, stopping to hug me.

"You are snuggly and warm, and solid. You won't fade away from me, like this snow will, will you?"

"No. Never. Will you?"

"Not if I tried."

We walked along after the children, discussing various things on the way, not paying attention, as long as we could see and hear them. That's the best part of having a wife, I think. Not just having someone to love so much, not just having someone to sleep beside at night—but someone to just talk to. Someone to share all your thoughts and dreams with, no matter how insignificant they might be, and knowing that they genuinely care; and then, caring about theirs, in return. Ah, 7; more than just my lover or my wife, she was my friend. My _best_ friend. And I was hers. It made me feel so warm inside, I couldn't believe it was real.

Eventually, we came to a stop. I looked up and realized with a start where we were. They had led us back to the ravine, where we had spent so much time in the summer. Now the wind blew chilly and biting, right in our faces; there was nothing refreshing about it today. The scary parts of my dream flashed through my mind, and my insides knotted together.

"Don't get too close to the edge," I called after them as they ran down into the valley.

"And keep an eye on 0," 7 added, though they may or may not have heard anything we just said.

"What is it about children and the edges of things?" I wondered. "It's like they're bound and determined to fall off of things and get hurt."

"Maybe they just want to be like us?" she suggested with a teasing smile.

I sighed, feeling a little annoyed. "I wish they hadn't led us here…"

She sympathetically caressed my face. "Is that dream still bothering you?"

"A little. I just can't shake the feeling that something's terribly wrong."

"Maybe we should leave, then. There are other places we could go."

"I think we should," I agreed solidly, my mind made up. "Let's go round them up, before they scatter."

We marched down the hill—half-tripping because the snow was so high—and followed the various sets of Stitchpunk tracks until we found one of our children. It happened to be 4, trying to dig through the caked ice and snow for findings. But she was alone. That was odd.

"4, where are your brothers?" 7 asked right away.

"_I'm not sure,"_ she admitted. _"They were right here a second ago. But I looked up and they had gone off somewhere. They're probably locked in another sword fight or something. You know how 0 likes to be the knight, and 3 likes to be the dragon."_

"No help from the mighty beastmaster today?" I asked.

"_Nah,"_ she answered with a bored shrug, returning to her digging. _"My best fighters __seriously__ need a vacation. Sometimes, even big sis needs a break. Anyway, part of the elevator broke, and I'm looking for the piece to fix it. But it's hard—the sun meted the snow a little, and then it re-froze in the wind. Now it's just mud and ice all over the place!"_

"Do you need any help, sweetie?"

"_I think I'll be alright, papa,"_ she said with a bright smile. _"But thank you!"_

7 stayed behind with her, to make sure she didn't wander, and I walked off to find the boys. And I found one of them—3 was by himself, a little way off, and 0 was nowhere to be seen. Butterflies swirled through my mechanical stomach, but I tried to ignore them.

"You're kind of far away from your sister, aren't you?" I asked. "What are you up to?"

"_Nothing much,"_ he answered, fiddling with a scrap of metal in his hand. _"Just walking around, enjoying the snow. It's nice, huh? It's different from what we expected."_

"It sure is. Where's 0? 4 said he was just with you."

He shrugged and made a face. _"He's always wandering off. I can't always keep track of him."_

"Did you see which way he went?"

"_Nope. One second he's right beside me. Next second, he's completely gone. But I'm sure he's around here somewhere."_

"Well, I suppose I should find him before he falls over the ridge."

"_He wouldn't do that. I'm sure he's fine, papa."_

"Still… Go on back with your mother and sister, while I look for him. This isn't the smartest place to be on a day like this, and I want to get us out of here."

"_Oh… Well, I'll bet he'll come back on his own. You probably don't have to go off looking for him like that."_

That was an odd thing to say.

"No, I'm going to look for him," I informed him, and stalked off through the snow. "You just get back to them, and I'll be there soon."

"_No,"_ he offered, catching up with me, _"actually, you can go on back with them, and __I__ can look for 0. It's no problem."_

"Why don't we look for him together? I'd be glad of the company."

"_No, no, really. I can do it myself."_

On any other day, I would have trusted him, and appreciated his willingness to help. Given his general disdain for his brother, this would have been a welcome relief. But not after my dream. I didn't even have to time to question whether I was being paranoid or silly. An alarm sounded in the back of my mind, and I very clearly heard words from an unseen source:

You mustn't allow this to happen.

3 was up to no good again. That much was obvious.

"Where is your brother?" I asked again, knowing for sure he knew the answer.

"_I already said, I don't know,"_ he insisted.

"That's not true, is it," I countered, looking right through him. I couldn't help but think of how proud 7 would have been if she could have seen me. He stood paralyzed, surprised that I had figured him out so quickly, and probably trying to figure out a believable excuse. But he didn't answer me.

"Where is he?" I demanded. "Where is 0?"

He still didn't answer, but his eyes darted off to one side. I followed his gaze, finding myself looking straight along the ledge. Several yards away, I finally spotted 0 on his hands and knees, leaning perilously over the edge, looking down into the ravine.

My heart stopped dead for a split second, and I took off running after him. My dream spun through my head. I couldn't let him fall—not when I had a chance to keep him safe.

"0! Get away from the edge!" I hollered to him. He heard me and looked up, wondering why I was yelling at him. In his confusion, his hand slipped and he lost his balance. To my horror, he went tumbling over the side with a cry of alarm.

With a scream, I dove to the ground and slid halfway over the edge… But I had him by the wrist. I had barely caught him in time. Now he hung from my grip by one hand, dangling over the terrifying drop. He looked down, realized the height, and shrieked.

"Pa! Please don't let me fall!" he cried tearfully, fear crackling behind his green eyes.

This was not my dream. This was reality, and I had saved him. Breathing hard from our adventure, I hauled him up, back over the side and onto solid ground. He fell in a heap in my lap, clinging to me desperately and sobbing uncontrollably. I held him as tight as I could, feeling like crying, myself. I had been so frightened, and now I was so relieved. Tears would have cleansed my very soul. But, for now, I had to be strong for my son.

7 and 4 appeared in moments—I had figured they would hear us yelling. When she saw 0 crying, 7 ran up and fell to her knees beside him and threw her arms around us, so he was sandwiched safely between us.

"Oh, my baby," she exclaimed, concerned that he was crying, but relieved that he was safe. "What on earth happened?"

0 hiccupped and took a quivering breath. "I was only looking for the treasure!" he sobbed, as if we knew what he was talking about.

"Treasure?" I asked, thinking it was part of one of his games. "What treasure? What do you mean?"

He slowly looked up at me with baleful eyes. "The _treasure_," he insisted. "You know, the treasure. The one in the ravine."

7 shook her head. "There's no treasure in the ravine, baby. What are you talking about?"

"…But… Big brover said…"

"What did 3 say to you?" I asked, trying not to raise my voice. If 0 said what I thought he would say…

He sniffled, pulling himself together a little. "3 said there was a treasure down there," he explained. "He said it was amazing, and that you hid it down there from me, 'cause you didn't trust me, and didn't want me to break it. And he said, if I was a really clever warrior, I would go down there and find it. I was looking for a way down… but I fell… And I—I was real scared!" he cried, beginning to cry again. "I thought I was gonna fall all the way down, pa, and you caught me!"

Even as he cuddled against me for shelter, I felt something in me snap. Once again, I didn't have time to second-guess myself, or wonder how this could have happened. All I could think of was how furious I was. That monster who looked so much like 3 was back—I had told him not to come back, not to kidnap my one son, and terrorize the other, but he had come back anyway. Who was he? And what had he done with my son? Whoever he was, I wanted to beat the living _tar_ out of him this time.

7 looked up at him, standing a little way off, with a look of less anger and more dismay on her face.

"3, you said that to him?" she asked, disbelieving. "Please, tell me it's not true."

He didn't answer. He took several cautious steps back, but didn't speak. His silence spoke a thousand words.

"…_Why_?" she asked.

Without answering, he turned and bolted away. While the two of us were completely stunned, 4 and 0 reacted much faster. She cased after him, and 0 jumped up to follow her.

"Big brover, come back!" he yelled. "You don't have to run away! I'll still forgive you! Please come back!"

We stood up, but I hesitated to run after them. "I almost don't want to catch him and drag him back. If I catch him, I might strangle him."

"But we have to bring him back and make things right again," 7 insisted. "Even if it takes until summer comes again, I want my son back."

We ran the way they had gone, but they had already gotten far away from us—we couldn't even see them anymore. Once again, we followed their tracks until we caught up with them. But when we did find them, we found a sorry sight. 4 and 0 had tripped and fallen face-first into a puddle if icy mud; their arms, legs and faces were completely covered in the stuff, and they couldn't seem to move. 0 was sitting up, trying to clear the mud from his eyes so he could keep running after his brother. But 4 lay flat on her face in the puddle, crying softly.

3 had gotten so far ahead, chasing after him any more seemed pointless. As it was, I didn't want to go after him any more than we already had. If he wanted to run away with us, it suited me fine. I didn't feel like it was my son running from me—it was the monster that had tried twice to kill my 0. I didn't want it anywhere near us.

7 must have agreed, or at least felt as hopeless as I did. Instead of trying to pursue him, she knelt in the mud beside 4 and helped her sit up, throwing her dry coat around her, and using the sleeve to wipe the mud from her face. She was soaked through and shivering violently; but her twin's utter betrayal must have been worse than all the snow and ice the world could offer.

Unable to help myself any longer, I stomped my foot in the snow. "Fine! Run!" I yelled after 3, as he became smaller and smaller. "Don't come back here until you're ready to be my son again!"

I hoped he heard me clear enough this time. I shrugged off my own coat and knelt beside 0, wrapping him up and holding him close. He felt like ice, just as soaked as his sister. 7 and I were getting pretty wet, ourselves.

"We need to get them home."

7 nodded vaguely and looked to the horizon. 3 had already vanished from our sight.

"What are we going to do about him? He's our son. We should go after him… right?"

I had no answer to that. I was so angry, and I felt so betrayed. Had he been plotting this all along? Had his even temper all these months been a lie? Had I failed as a father?

No, I hadn't failed. I had saved 0 twice, already. And while he and 4 were hurt and scared, I could still help them, now. There was too much to be done to waste time feeling sorry for myself. If anyone had failed, it was 3.

I slowly stood up, holding 0 close against the cold. Beside me, 7 helped 4 to her feet.

"Baby, do you think you can walk?" she asked.

4 slowly, wordlessly shook her head and sniffled pathetically. As if her body sensed what it was being asked to do, her knees knocked together and buckled completely, and she fell back into the mud.

"7," I said gently, "you take 0. I'll carry her."

She took 0 in her arms, and I pulled 4 back out of the mud, swinging her up on my hip. Brokenhearted, we started the walk back home without 3—or whatever he had become.

Hopefully, we had left the monster behind for good this time. But would we ever see the real 3 again? I prayed that he would return. Soon.


	13. Chapter 12: Gone, and Dead

Chapter 12: Gone, and Dead

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When we got back to the library, I decided that the best next step would be to fix the children a warm bath. They had thought for a long time that bathing would be a bad idea for us—with nothing to guard our rather delicate circuitry but our cloth skin, surely water would only make us short-circuit. However, with rain came sticky mud at any time. And children seem to have a natural and irksome attraction to mud. Bathing had become something of a necessity, and one that our wiring had proven perfectly capable of handling. It seemed we had been prepared for everything, except for dealing with our emotions.

So, gathering some snow in a bucket and melting it over a fire until it was warm, I made them a bath. As they sat in the water, it rinsed their skin wonderfully; and the warmth lightened 0's spirits a little. But for 4, aside from getting her clean again, it didn't do much. All through their bath, she sat still and silent, staring blankly into the murky water. When 0 attempted to engage her, she didn't seem to hear him.

When they finished, we sat them by the fire to dry off, and took a turn to rise off, ourselves. 7 and I were soaked, and our legs were also covered in mud. Being clean helped ease my mind, as if the water took some of the tension away with the mud.

In the back of my mind, I really did plan to go after 3 and haul him back, where he belonged. I sure wasn't looking forward to the punishment I would have to come up with for him this time, but it didn't matter. In the end, I was worried about him. In the end, I just wanted my son back.

By the time I had dried off and pulled myself together enough to go wandering through the snow, more had already fallen. The blanket that had reached my knees that morning was now up to my chest; as the snow continued to fall, it only promised to get deeper. In fact, looking at the thick gray clouds in the distance, it seemed that a storm was brewing.

I was crushed. There would be no going out in that mess. I wouldn't have been able to plow through the snow that had already fallen. And what was the point of getting myself lost in the coming blizzard, when I still had two other children and a wife who needed me?

7, who had planned on coming with me, was no so ready to take no for an answer.

"There must be _something_ we can do," she insisted frantically. "We can't just leave him out there in the storm. 9, you're smart—think of something! Anything!"

"There's nothing we can do now. Look at that snow—there's no way we could travel through that. We'd get lost, ourselves."

"We would manage, somehow. We always do."

"7, please, calm down. We'll figure thise out."

"I'm tired of you making that excuse!" she exclaimed angrily. "You only say that when you've run out of ideas and don't want to deal with problems anymore!"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about. If you hadn't locked him up in the library and let him stay where we could keep an eye on him, maybe this wouldn't have happened!"

"That was months ago!"

"And I've _never_ thought it was a good idea! I've always had a bad feeling that it hadn't worked!"

"Then why didn't you say something? I could have fixed this!"

"By doing what? Locking him up again? I don't think so!"

"Well I had to do _something_, because you're too flighty and ignorant to do anything yourself!"

I think I had meant to say "impatient", not "ignorant"; not that it would have made much of a difference. That was the first time in memory that I had ever been angry at her. What had I ever done to make her doubt me? After all I had done for her, she didn't trust me? She was just as startled as I was by my words; she looked as if she had been stabbed with a sharp knife. Her shocked expression faded quickly into a furious glare.

"Well, fine," she growled, storming away.

"Fine," I countered, storming off in the opposite direction.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

I was too angry to counter again, as I stalked into the drafty shadows. Instead, I found myself grumbling about how wronged I felt, all the reasons why _she_ was wrong, and how I was only trying to make things right again. I had made so many terrible mistakes. I was trying to fix them. I was doing all of this for _her_. Couldn't she see that? Could I do _anything_ right enough for her?

I kicked the nearest thing on the floor as hard as I could, sending sharp pain coursing through my foot and lower leg. I cried out and stumbled back against a bookshelf, so furious that I couldn't see straight. As the pain ebbed through my leg, it shot through all the anger and confusion like an arrow. My mind suddenly cleared as suddenly as it had fogged up. The big picture I now saw made me feel sick to my stomach. For a few surreal moments, my anger had completely consumed me, and I had said something horrible to my wife—my treasure. As if that weren't enough, here I was, hurting my own sorry self. And we were still no closer to finding 3.

I was such a failure. I had utterly failed my whole family. By the powers, I didn't deserve any of them, or any of the patience or love they had shown to me. How could I have treated them so basely? I felt smashed to pieces. I let my face sink into my hands, and I began to cry over my folly.

1 had been right. I really was a fool.

"…Pa?"

I looked up to see 0, peering at me expectantly from around a corner. I forced my self-pity to the back of my mind, determined not to worry my remaining son.

"Why are you crying, pa? Are you sad, too, about big brover?" he asked, easing out into the open. Remarkably, he hadn't cried at all since we had been home.

"That's part of it," I agreed, walking up to meet him. I scooped him up and held him like a teddy bear, snuggly and comforting, with his arms around my neck and his face buried in my shoulder.

"You and ma were yelling," he commented. "Why?"

"…We don't always agree," I answered slowly.

"Hey, pa, where do you think big brover went?" he asked, sitting up straight in my arms. "Do you think he went to find the guys I can't count?"

The onslaught of uncomfortable and unusual questions caught me a little off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when I try to count us, I start with me, 0, the littlest, of course. But I can't count after me, 'cause there's 1 and 2 missing. So big sis said to skip them, and count her and big brover, but I can't count after _them_, 'cause 5 and 6 are missing, too! Pa, where did they go? Is 3 going to find them and bring them back?"

My mind reeled for an answer, and my shoulder twinged badly in protest. How was I supposed to explain everything that had happened, to a six-year-old who hadn't been alive for a full year? But he had asked, and deserved some kind of answer. Anyway, we spoke often of the lost in front of him, forgetting that he absorbed details like a sponge. He also deserved an explanation.

"I don't think 3's gone to find them."

"Why not? They're gone, and he's gone. So, they're all gone together, right?"

"There are different types of 'gone', and different places you can be gone to."

"Oooh… So, where did they go? If 3 does find them, will he bring them home?"

"0, they can't come home… Have I told you yet that your mother and I used to have brothers, just like you do?"

"Wow, really?"

"It's the truth. They were our family, our friends. We all loved each other very much."

"Are they the guys I can't count?"

"Most of them, yes."

"And they're the ones who you're always saying woulda loved me so much"

"Like we can't even begin to tell you."

"Well, if they loved us all so much, how come they left? Where did they go? Did they get angry at you, and run away like 3 did?"

"No, 0… They're dead."

"What's dead mean, pa? Is it another type of gone?"

How to explain the idea of death to a child…? I chose my words slowly and carefully.

"Dead is when your soul and your body come apart. You know what we've taught you about your soul."

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding his head. "It's made outta piece of you, and a piece of ma, and it lives here, in my body," he recalled, pointing to his heart.

"That is right, my son. Your body is like a house for your soul; one can't work without the other. And death is when they come apart."

"And that's a type of gone?"

"Yes… Death is when your soul leaves your body, and… it goes so far away… that it can never come back."

His eyes widened, sort of horrified. "Never _ever_?"

I shook my head. "Never ever."

"I'll never get to see them…?"

"…No, I'm afraid not."

His lip began to quiver. "Is 3 dead too?" he whimpered.

"I don't know."

"But he's gone, just like them."

"There's a big difference between being dead and just being gone. When you're_ dead_, it means that we'll never see you again. But when you're only _gone_, it's more like we'll see each other again, but just can't see each other because we're apart."

"So, you won't ever see your brothers again…"

I sighed heavily and rested my head against his. "…No. No, I won't."

"Pa, will I ever see my big brover again?"

"I don't know, 0."

He snuggled close and put his head down on my shoulder. "Pa, I know what 3 did to me was pretty bad… He wanted _me_ to go away forever, huh?"

"Yes, he did."

"He wanted to make _me_ dead?"

"…Yes."

"Well… I know I should be real mad at him, like you and ma and big sis. But I can't be mad at him. I tried to be mad at him, and I can't."

"Are you sad? Afraid? Frustrated?"

"I dunno. I dunno how I feel. Is that a good thing?"

"I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. But it's better than being angry. Being angry hurts; and it doesn't just hurt you. It hurts everyone around you… I hurt your mother pretty badly, just now."

"But you wouldn't hurt ma on purpose, right? It was an accident, right?"

It seemed like I did a lot of terrible things by accident…

"You should do what me and big sis and big brover do: you should apologize and ask her to forgive you. You're always telling us to forgive each other, and it works. I'll bet she'd forgive you."

That was a comforting thought. It even prompted a smile. "You'll still forgive him if he comes back?"

"Sure, if he asks me to. I don't think I can forgive him, if he doesn't want me to. And I know that ma wants to forgive you, for whatever you did. You should ask her. She'll do it. Ma's really wonderful like that, isn't she?"

"She really is," I agreed putting him back on the ground. "Go on and find 4. I have to find your mother."

"I think she's by the way out, by the giant lady," he offered, meaning the big fountain by the entrance. He dashed off into the shadows, leaving me alone again. I mustered my courage and started off for the fountain, wondering how I was supposed to face 7 after what I had said.

I didn't have to wonder for long. After walking for only a few minutes, I nearly walked right into her. I was surprised, but happy that I had found her so quickly. She looked to be the same—she had been looking for me, as well. Great minds really _do_ think alike.

She opened her mouth to speak, but I hushed her before she got any words out.

"7… I'm sorry about what I said before. I shouldn't have lost my temper. I just… Oh… My love, I am _so_ sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

She smiled tiredly and stepped closer, taking my hands in hers. "Of course I can. I need you to forgive me, as well. You've done everything you could to keep us safe, and you've never let any of us down before. I shouldn't doubt you; especially not when I need you so much."

"There's nothing to forgive," I answered, resting my head against hers. "I had begun to doubt myself."

She sighed knowingly. "…What will we do now?"

I shook my head slowly, trying not to let myself despair too much.

"I have no idea."

Sensing my distress, she pulled me closer and snuggled into my arms. For a moment, the two of us were just safe, warm, and solid again.

"We'll figure it out, 9," she said quietly. "We always do, somehow. It's not just something you say—it's a fact."

"That's why I always say it. It gives me hope, when things seem hopeless. Even if I don't know what to do, we will, eventually. As long as you and I are together, we can't fail."

"But _they_ still can," she commented. "We can try to raise them and teach them and show them what is right… But, in the end, it's all up to them what they will choose to be. That's the way of freedom. I can't deny them that. I just wish… I just wish he had made better choices."

Nothing could cover the overwhelming disappointment we both felt. We had tried so hard, with all our children, to teach them right from wrong, to raise them to be good. How could 3 have gone so wrong? Was it something we had done? Had we forgotten to tell him something? Was there _anything_ we could have done differently?

At least we knew for sure, we hadn't failed as parents. 4 and 0 were doing just fine. They hadn't become monsters, like their brother. 0 was confused, still, and 4 was impossibly sad that her other half was completely gone. But we had a chance to help them, and we intended to jump at it, once we had gotten ourselves back together.

"I'm so worried about him," she whispered into my shoulder. "Out there, in that storm, in all that snow… He could be hurt and scared, and he's all alone. I want my little boy back. I want him home," she concluded with a pathetic sniffle.

I wanted him home, as well. If only he came back, I could forgive him as easily as 0 could. If only he came back. A draft suddenly blew through the library, another clear sign of the impending blizzard. We would surely be trapped inside by morning, but safe and warm, at least. But we would be that much farther from 3. We both shivered, and I held her closer against the chill.

From that moment on, I firmly decided there was nothing magical or redeeming about snow. I hated it so much. I prayed as hard as I could that 3 would be okay, wherever he was…

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Author's Notes…

I just want to thank my long-time mentor, mythweaver1, for the final paragraph. She and I, we don't like snow. :P

The next several chapters will be from 3's POV, because he will have a really amazing and life-altering adventure. ;)


	14. Chapter 13: 3's Adventure Begins

Behold: the all-star voice cast I have picked out for the Deka-punks, all of whom you will meet in a few moments:

11 is voiced by Emma Watson, who we all know as Hermione Granger.

12 is voiced by Skandar Keynes, who played Edmund Pevansie in the _Chronicles of Narnia_ movies.

13 is voiced by Johnny Depp, Mad hatter-style.

14 is voiced by Helena Bonham-Carter, Corpse Bride-style.

(There is an alternate universe somewhere, where these two were 9 and 7, and the entire score was done by Danny Elfman… But I don't want to live there. 0.o)

And 15 is voiced by Liam Neeson.

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Chapter 13: 3's Adventure Begins

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I ran. And ran. And ran some more. I ran until I could no longer remember why I was running. There were so many reasons to run, they all got muddled together—fear, anger, resentment… hatred. Fear, because I knew what papa would do if he caught me. He promised my punishment would be worse, this time. I refused to be locked up again. Anger, because they didn't understand. I was still being forced to the side, into 0's tiny shadow, and none of them seemed to care. Resentment, because he had replaced me so easily. They had tired of me so quickly, they made a replacement—with their own hands, and pieces of their own souls. 0 was more than me in every way. And if they had tired of me, why hadn't they tired of my sister? How was _she_ still enough for them, when I wasn't?

And hatred. I hated them all. I never wanted to see them again. If they didn't want me, that was fine. I would just leave. I would run away, far away, and never return.

Scariest of all, in the back of my mind, I wasn't even sure where all these feelings were coming from. It was an uncomfortable but familiar feeling that I remembered well from the spring. When I first heard that I would have a little brother, I had felt so unsure, so nervous. Imagining all the changes that would have to happen, and all the responsibility being asked of me made me begin to worry so badly. And somewhere in there, a terrible seed of darkness had been allowed to grow. Before even knew it was there, it had consumed me completely. They had barely recognized me. I had barely recognized myself.

That long, lonely month I had spent locked in the study had given me time to grapple with that demon, meditate it into submission, tame it into something I could deal with. And, mostly, that demon had kept quiet ever since then. But the cold had changed me suddenly. Something about it seemed to amplify the monster. I had wanted so badly to ask papa for help—he would have helped me, if only I had asked. But the monster said no, I didn't need his help. In this family that didn't want me, I had to learn to fend for myself.

And, like a stupid, dumb fool, I listened to it. It had overcome me while I hadn't been paying attention, in the night while it snowed. I woke that morning feeling strange, not entirely in control of myself. That old appetite was back in my belly—the one that could only be satisfied with blood. My brother's blood…

My gut knotted itself as I ran through the deepening snow. I felt sick, totally disgusted with myself. I had run for a while, sure that I was in the right, sure that my desire to see 0 dead was completely reasonable. Everyone else was wrong. My latest venture botched, and a safe distance from them, the demon suddenly decided that it could do no more damage with me. It receded as easily as it had overtaken me, and I stopped for a moment, alone in the snow.

It had grown so deep since I had started off—how long had I been running? An hour, at least, fueled by my conflicting emotions. Now, they were gone, and I was breathless and exhausted. Worse, I had no idea where I was. The falling snow had covered my tracks, leaving me no way to find my way back.

I still had no wish to go home. After what I had done, what was left for me back there? Even if the demon had lied the whole time, and they really_ did_ care about me, how could I go back there and face them again? If they had still cared about me before, they surely didn't now. Not after what I had just done. I had tried to _murder_ my brother. And when I got caught, I had turned and run like a coward.

I couldn't go back now. Maybe I never could.

The sky was growing dark with storm clouds—as if the snow wasn't already deep enough. I couldn't go back, and I sure couldn't stay where I was. I had to find some kind of shelter, somewhere. I forged ahead, lost and alone, half-frozen, willing myself not to cry until I was relatively safe. After a while of wandering, I gave up on not crying; it seemed that I wouldn't be safe at all in time for the storm. I felt so helpless.

I wished with everything I had that papa was there with me, to guide me home. He was a hero. He was brave. He was a good man. He deserved a better son than whatever I had turned out to be.

I don't know how much longer I spent wandering, feeling sorry for myself. It must have been a long time, as I plowed forward through the snow. Everything was so unfamiliar to me. There was absolutely no hope to be found anywhere. After a very long time of this, I felt my numb legs give beneath me and I fell on my face; I nearly smashed my eye against a rock, but caught myself just in time.

I lay still for a moment, wondering why I even bothered anymore. I had no home, no family, no hope, and almost no strength left. What was the point? If I closed my eyes and slipped away… Maybe they would still miss me. But they didn't deserve to have to deal with me. We would all be better off if I just went away.

Despairing, I did just that. I let my eyes slide shut, not caring if I never woke up. My skin was so numb, I barely felt the soft flakes falling like a blanket over me. I fell into a deep sleep, from which I was sure there would be no awakening…

…But wake, I did. It happened slowly, as voices began to echo in my head. I felt softness and warmth all around me—a blanket, and a bed. The voices became clearer, each of them very different, but laced with an accent I was unfamiliar with.

"But it's too soon! This isn't right," insisted the voice of a young girl.

An equally young boy's voice countered, "Ah, come on, sis. He's only a little kid. How bad could it be?"

"Go tell mother not to rush into things. She's being silly again."

"11, hush!" scolded a sweet, feminine voice beside me. "If your father were here, he would slap your sassy mouth. I have half a mind to come over there and do it, myself. Now, both of you sit and be still."

"But mother, you're being ridiculous. Surely, you don't mean to keep him here?"

"And why not? He was half-dead when we found him. You didn't expect me to throw him back out into that storm, did you?"

"But—!"

"No more out of you, girl. I am your mother, and you will not question me, do you understand?"

I let my eyes open a little, being careful of the bright, warm light that stung my eyes. A new, deep voice spoke, "14, don't look now, but it seems our little foundling's waking up."

To my surprise, I found myself looking up at another Stitchpunk—definitely a woman, with brown calico skin and brassy eyes. And she had hair. Stitched to either side of her head were two long, trailing strips of cloth, one black and the other gray, like long pigtails. Two wooden buttons were stitched to her chest, side by side, with black thread, like nothing I had ever seen before. She was beautiful and elegant-looking. When she saw me opening my eyes, she gave me a motherly smile and gently brushed my cheek with her fingers.

"Goodness, child," she said softly, "you're finally awake. We had feared you might not wake up at all."

"He's a strong lad, we can give him that," commented the deep voice, as its owner stepped into view. He was bigger and more muscular than the woman, his skin darker than hers, with an impressive scar stitched across his face, sloping over his forehead and between his eyes. He also had hair on his head, a swatch of black cloth that reached past his shoulders, ripped in three shreds and braided down his back. His fastening was a strap from his shoulder to his hip, secured by a gold buckle on his shoulder. Resting his hand on the woman's shoulder, he leaned over a little closer to me and gave me a warm smile.

"Welcome, lad, to our home," he said. "We don't know what you're doing all the way out here with this blighted storm so near at hand, but you're safe here, with us."

I couldn't help but smile back at them. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected to see other Stitchpunks anywhere, let alone in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. But they had saved me, and were taking care of me. I decided that these must be good guys. With the woman's help, I slowly sat up in the little bed where I was lying. We were in a small, warm, well-lit den, the floor covered with part of a thick patchwork quilt. Like back home, nails had been pounded into the walls to hold everyone's various gear. There were knives, spears, one or two amazing swords, and cloaks made of what looked like squirrel pelts. (They looked kind of archaic, but much better for the snow than the simple cloth coat I had run away in.)

Above me shone the room's light source—a string of white Christmas lights, strung up along where the walls and ceiling met, powered by an unseen source. So they had harnessed the power of electricity, as well. Their home was amazing… But I got the feeling this was only a taste of their dwelling place.

"Now then," she said, "I am 14, and this is my brother, 15."

"A pleasure," he said, nodding his head politely. A new face peered around his shoulder, black and white checkered all over, his own short black hair cut in a jagged slant so that it fell rebelliously over his right eye. 15 looked over his shoulder at the new comer and laughed shortly.

"No need to hide back there, laddie," he insisted. "Come out here and say hello."

Without hesitation, the checkered 'punk jumped right out with a big, goofy smile.

"Hi! I'm 12," he announced, his fists on his hips and his chest puffed up proudly, so that the glossy black button on his chest glinted in the light. He sort of reminded me of myself. 12 looked back where he had come from and made a face.

"Sis, don't be rude. Come and say hello to the kid."

With an annoyed groan, his sister stepped out, just as checkered as he was. Everything about them was like a mirror image—her hair was cut the same as his; but it was bright scarlet, and swayed to the left rather than the right. Her button was on the left side of her chest, and strikingly bright red. Even though her skin was black and white checkered like her brother's, all her stitching had been done with red thread.

It hit me like a brick: they were twins, as well.

"I'm 11," she said flatly, crossing her arms and slouching a little. She was in a wonderfully bad mood. I wondered why. Whatever the reason, 12 wasn't impressed.

"Oh, lighten up," he said, playfully punching her arm. "It's not every day we rescue a Prime from a blizzard."

"Indeed, it's not," 14 agreed, looking down at my chest. "And here you are, you haven't said a word all this time. Your name is 3, then?"

No, I hadn't said a word. I never did. I hesitated, wondering what they would think when I began to flicker. Surely, they would understand my unusual speech… right?"

"What's the matter?" 14 asked when I still didn't speak. "Can't you talk? Are you alright?"

She sounded so concerned; but desperate, somehow, as if she was dying to nurture someone. That was kind of weird…

"_No, I can talk,"_ I flickered, bracing myself for some sort of reaction. _"Just not normally."_

All four of them gasped, surprised.

"That's how you speak?" 14 asked, more amazed than worried now.

"_For as long as I can remember."_

"Is there something wrong with you?" 12 asked. "Maybe I can fix it. I'm good at fixing things."

"_Nah, it's okay. Everyone's tried,"_ I answered with a shrug. I was willing to trust these people a little, but not enough to let them touch my wires so soon.

14 stood up and looked over her family with a sigh. "Well… That's all of us, but 13. He'll be back in soon, I'm sure," she said, glancing at a tunnel in the wall behind us that led off into darkness. 15 patted her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.

"That 13's a wild one, but he'll be home. He'll always come back for you, lass."

"_Who's_ _13?"_ I asked.

"Our father," 12 answered, plunking himself down beside me. "He left a while ago to grab some things before the blizzard gets too bad. We've been caught up short in the past. It's no fun. No fun, at all. So, how _did_ you end up like that? Tell me everything."

I smiled sheepishly. _"I really don't know. It was a long time ago."_

"Well, if you do remember, let me know, okay? Wires are so fascinating, don't you think?"

I answered with another smile. Because no, I had never found wires particularly fascinating. I had always found words much more interesting, myself. But it didn't seem polite to say so out loud, when I was sitting in the safety of his home.

Only a few more minutes passed before we heard a door slam shut somewhere nearby. 14 stood right at the tunnel entrance, waiting expectantly. When 13 walked in, I didn't even get to see him right away. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight, thrilled to see him. He was happy to see her, as well; he picked her up and spun her around a few times.

They were so happy, so in love. The instantly reminded me of mama and papa, and my heart thumped sadly in my chest.

"14, my bride, you are in unusual good form today," he commented, setting her back down with a quick, affectionate kiss. "I take it the child is alright?"

"He just woke up," she answered happily, taking his hand and leading him to the bed.

Wow, did 13 remind me of papa. He was made of the same stuff as 14, but slightly taller and sturdier. Like all the others, he had a patch of black fabric for hair, reaching to his shoulders, kept out of his eyes by a leather band around his head. Unlike the others, a cut-out shape of black felt had been stitched along his jaw and upper lip, giving him a beard. He had a strap over his shoulder like 15, a cobbled-together sword slung through the back. He looked like a tough, rugged warrior; but he had a kind, strong, intelligent face and a warm smile.

"So, he wakes," 13 said happily, sitting beside me. "You gave us a good scare, there, kid. You should have seen how you worried my poor wife."

"_I'm sorry…"_

"Huh… That's unusual. I've never seen anyone speak like that," he commented, one eyebrow raising curiously. "But I like it. It's been a while since I've seen any of the Primes; I hadn't expected to see any of you again, the way things were going."

"_You had seen us?"_

"Only a few, only once. A spirited little man, and his lovely, flighty daughter."

"_Oh! That was 2 and 7!"_ I exclaimed. _"I remember when they came back and said they found another; but we all thought they were making it up, to give us some kind of hope. I'm… I'm glad it was true, all this time… 7's my mama now, you know."_

13's whole face lit up. "Ah, I've always wondered how they've done since we met. They seemed like decent people. We were all lost one day, and sort of bumped into each other somewhere between our territories. Things didn't sound at all well with their clan, at the time."

Clan? We had been a clan? I shook my head. _"No, they really weren't."_

"So, how are they these days? Still alive and kicking, eh? That 2—he was only a little old man, but his spirit was inspiring and infectious. And the girl seemed troubled, but brave and strong; I had always hoped she might conquer her troubles, one day. Are they well?"

My spirits fell again. _"…2 died, almost a year ago."_

13's eyes went wide. "Oh! I… I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"_It's okay."_

"Was it in all that commotion down in the suburbs earlier this year?" 14 asked. "It was all a good distance away from here; but we could hear the explosions, and we saw fire and smoke rising from the south for days. We had been afraid you were all wiped out."

"_Well, most of us… But not all of us."_

"What on earth happened over there?"

"_It's a really long story."_

They saw my clear discomfort and didn't press any further.

"Are things much improved over there, with the Primes who remain?" 13 asked.

At last I could smile a little. _"Oh yeah, everything is pretty good now. Our, uh, __clan__ has a new leader—he's my papa now."_

"So what are you doing all the way out here, so far away from them?"

"_That's also a long story…"_

"Well," 14 suggested slowly, "when this blizzard clears up, we should see about getting you back home to your mother and father, where you belong. I'm sure they're both worried sick about you."

Despair hit me again and I hung my head. _"I sorta ran away. I don't' know if I can go back."_

"Can you tell us about it?"

"…_I'd rather not…"_

13 and 14 exchanged a series of looks—they seemed to be having a whole conversation with only their facial expressions. She looked concerned and baleful, like she was pleading her husband for something. He answered with a dubious look. But, after a moment, he gave her a vague, hopeful smile.

"Well, you certainly can't go back right now. You'll be safe with us, with the storm outside. And if, when it subsides, you still don't want to go back, I suppose you can stay here."

"_Really?"_

"Sure," he answered, patting my head. "For as long as you like. If you do decide to go home, we'll certainly show you the way back. But, until that time, you are perfectly welcome to share our home. …We've had room for one more for a while, anyway."

I was too relieved and excited to find that last comment as ominous as it was. I looked around the room at everyone else. 15 regarded his brother and sister with a bemused and comforted smirk. 12 leaned over and gave me a playful punch.

"Cool! I've never had a brother before. We'll be buds, huh? It'll be great!"

11 clearly didn't share her twin's enthusiasm. She stood by herself, arms crossed, an intensely angry glare directed straight at me. The jagged edge of her bangs that fell over her left eye made her look even more furious. It was like she hoped, if she glared at me enough, I would burst into flames.

Sheesh. What had I done to make her so mad at me? Had I said something in my sleep? Had I been laying in her bed all this time? Was she unimpressed that fortune had landed her another brother, instead of a sister? _What had I done_?

I chose not to wrack my brain about it. I would figure it out, get her alone for a moment, and apologize. Whatever our misunderstanding was, she would see that I hadn't meant any harm, and she would forgive me. I was sure of it.

And that would be a good thing. After the horrible things I had done, this was my chance to start over and do things right. Forget about my past. Forget about my old family. Forget about my sister… hard as it was not to think of her. Surely she was terrified of me now, and never wanted to be near me again.

As long as they didn't know what I had done and why I had run away, I intended to take up 13's offer. I planned to stay here, with them, for as long as I could. Maybe one day, I would return to the library, just to see if they remembered me; but that day was a long way off, if it ever came at all.

This was going to be fun. I could feel it.

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Author's Notes…

3's adventure will not be in a mass-update. I'll give you guys a chance to soak it all in, one chapter at a time, because my Deka-punk crew is awesome! Have you noticed, yet, how they're highlanders? They live just this side of uptown, and the guys we all know and love live in a suburb in the downtown district.

HENCE, the Deka-punks are highlanders. :P

It's so interesting, hearing Hermione Granger's voice in my head, narrating a little monster like 11. And we all thought that 3 was out of line… Delights await! ;)

Go figure, I finish chapter 13 of 3's story-which introduces 13-on 3/13. Why can't it be 2013 RIGHT NOW? 8D


	15. Chapter 14: The DekaPunks

Chapter 14: The Deka-Punks

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I was soon filled in on all the details of my rescuers. The called themselves Deka-punks, because all their number-names were in the tens. And they called us Primes, because our number-names were in the ones. We also learned, after a brief discussion about the earlier days of our lives, that our creators had been brothers—_twin_ brothers, in fact, who had conducted the same basic Stitchpunk-project together, from opposite sides of the city. That certainly explained a lot. So we were all cousins, of a sort. It was no wonder they reminded me so much of my old family.

I also learned that the cozy den I had woken in was only one room in an underground complex they had built out of abandoned mole tunnels in a backyard garden. It remained cool in the summer, and was easy to keep warm in the winter. One of their tunnels snaked for several yards under the garden, into the basement of the house.

Each of them had their own room down some tunnel or another. 12 gladly escorted me to one particular room, close to the one he shared with his fuming sister, the entrance covered with a curtain. We walked in and found the little space remarkably furnished, with a bed my size, a small wooden box in the corner, and a cushy-looking floor pillow, all beneath another string of Christmas lights. 12 walked right in and fiddled with a wire on the wall, and the lights flickered on—mostly white, with an explosion of red, green, blue and orange here and there.

"This can be your room, for the foreseeable future," he said, surveying the room with a vacant smile. "It's a little dusty, I think, but it's got everything, I guess. There are probably some toys in the toy box, still... If you like to play with toys, I mean, they're pretty nice. Father made most of them, I think…"

I had yet to see 12 sad. He had been so cheerful and outgoing all this time. Now he was suddenly so _very_ sad.

"_12, whose room was this?"_

He snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I'll tell you later, okay?"

He took another long look around the space and sighed sadly.

"It is just about right for you, isn't it?"

His sudden mood concerned me; he actually looked like he might start to cry. I wondered what could be the matter, but it was clear he couldn't talk about it yet. He pointed down the tunnel to where his room was, told me that I could find him there if I needed anything, and then walked away very quickly.

I walked to the center of the room and looked my whole new living space over. The Christmas lights illuminated all the corners, the occasional pop of color giving the room a warm ambiance. I sat on the bed, testing its weight and feel; it creaked a little beneath me, like it hadn't been used in a while and hadn't expected to be sat on out of the blue. The blanket did have a little dust and dirt on top, but I brushed it away, noticing the pattern beneath—a floral design, that looked like it must have been salvaged from a fancy tablecloth, or a woman's dress. At once it seemed feminine and girly.

Curious, I knelt beside the toy box and opened the lid. Within, I found a few animal figurines, much better than the ones 4 had cut out of tin. These had been carved out of wood into detailed, three-dimensional figures. There were ten animals in all—only five, really, but two of each. I also found a small box, shaped like a big boat, that the ten figurines seemed to fit inside. That felt familiar; I was sure that I had heard this story somewhere before…

There was also a ball of yarn with a pair of knitting needles, a hand-crafted game of jacks, and three human-shaped dolls. Two of the dolls were carefully and well-made; the third had been crafted by a clumsy, amateur hand, but seemed to have been handled the most. Each doll wore a dress, and each one seemed to have been cut and sewn from the same pattern with different fabric. And I found more of their clothes folded in a corner of the box.

This room definitely had not belonged to a boy…

Outside, I heard voices drifting from down the hall. I stepped out into the tunnel and followed my ears to another space, this one guarded by a real door. But it was slightly ajar, and I could hear 13 and 14 talking inside.

"Perhaps 11 was right, though," 14 was fretting. "Maybe this is too soon."

"Beloved, it happened almost a year-and-a-half ago," 13 pointed out, trying to soothe her.

"But something about it doesn't sit well with me… Is it so insensitive of us? Letting him in, and just letting him take over her things?"

"Is there anything else we can do? We can't just leave him to sleep on the sofa in the den. Not when there's a perfectly good room for him, just his size. 14, you don't want him to leave, do you? Because you know I can't let you throw him out, just because all this is upsetting you."

"Oh, no! Not at all! That's not what I… Oh, 13, I don't know how I feel. I'll be the first to admit, I have _never_ recovered. Not by a long shot."

"I haven't either, really. I can't imagine how you must feel."

They both sounded so upset, but I couldn't help but smile a little. 13 was just like papa, again. I could hear him saying something like that to mama, if she was sad.

"13, I had prayed to some source of power that I don't even understand—I had prayed so long for some kind of healing. Some sort of reassurance, just to make this deep, _unbearable_ pain go away. And now this child appears out of nowhere, and needs me so much… Perhaps 3 is the answer to all my prayers."

"14, this boy can't replace 10."

"I know that; and I don't want to replace 10 with anyone or anything. I don't expect him to fill this hole she's left… But you know as well as I do, my love, there is a void in my heart, and it needs to be mended."

"What if he decides he wants to go home? He's got a mother and a father, somewhere out there, and he's far away from them. And far be it from me to deny another man his own son. If he decides he wants to return to them, we have to take him."

"I would never deprive another mother of her baby. Not after all that's happened to me… But he seems so certain; it's daring me to hope a little."

"Children," 13 scoffed. "They always think they know exactly what they want. In truth, they _rarely_ know what they want, or when they want it, let alone what they _need_. That's why they've got parents, to guide them."

"We could guide him. Look at him, love—his name is 3! He could be like your mini-me! It would be perfect!"

"That is a curious thing… Perhaps it is a sign. Even I have to say, I hope he can stay with us forever. He's such a sweet boy. And… There is a void in my heart, as well. I'm just so terrified to trust any hope of keeping him. But I do want to be his father. I want him to be my son."

Wow. This was getting deeper, faster, and weirder by the second. I wasn't sure if I liked where it was going. A hand caught me by the shoulder, and I barely kept from crying out in alarm. I spun around to see 15 towering above me, a benevolent and amused smile on his face.

"Did not your parents e'er teach you it's rude to eavesdrop, laddie?" he asked in a low voice, so his brother and sister wouldn't hear him. I gave him a sheepish smile in response.

15 sighed, heavy but quiet, and led me back to the den. "Come with me for a bit. There be a few things more you should know about us, before you go and make up your mind."

That sounded foreboding. Arriving back in the den, he handed me a squirrel cloak off the wall—the smallest one, which fit me almost exactly—and then selected the largest one for himself. Then he guided me down the tunnel that led to the basement.

"_Why down here?"_

"So the others aren't likely to follow or hear us," he answered, producing a match and striking it on the packed-earth floor.

"So, I take it you know by now, 13 and 14 would like to adopt you," he commented. "Tell me how you feel about that. Interested? Excited? Nervous, perhaps?"

Oh. Now that he put it _that_ way, it seemed a lot bigger. I thought about it for a moment before answering, _"I guess I am pretty interested."_

"You would leave your family behind and join ours? Surely, you'd worry about them. If you agree to join our family, you cannot just drop us and run back to them, again. I like you, laddie—my brother and sister are prepared to take you into their poor wee hearts and love you. If you let them adopt you, you can never go back."

"_15, why __are__ their hearts so wee and poor? What happened to them, exactly?"_

"It's a long story," he answered with a knowing smirk. I scrunched up my face, kind of peeved that he had used my own card against me. I decided to be a little more specific.

"_Tell me about 10, then. Who was she?"_

His smirk turned more rueful than playful as he slowly answered, "That's also a long story."

I could see where this was going. If I wanted to know their story, I would have to tell them mine. We all needed to know what we were getting ourselves into, I supposed. Heck, it had only been a few hours, and now they wanted to _adopt_ me? And I was seriously thinking about accepting? Maybe it was time to take a step back and think critically for a minute.

We stepped out of the close darkness of the tunnel, and suddenly found ourselves in a cavernous room, standing on a platform against the wall, where the tunnel ended. It was very chilly and drafty in the big space, and I tugged the cloak closer around me; it had seemed kind of rude, at first, but I was glad to have it now. A ladder led from the top down to another level; 15 led me down a few flights of ladders until we reached the floor. By the time we had finished, the match had gone out. He took out another and struck it, brightening only a tiny portion of the basement.

"Long as it is, I have to tell you the story of our 10," he said solemnly. "I cannot let you carry on with us a second longer, without telling you what happened. This… may change your mind, about letting them adopt you."

"_Was it __that__ bad?"_

"Aye, it was pretty bad. Sit down, here, and I'll begin the tale."

We sat down on the floor across from each other, and 15 started.

"T'was nigh on seven years ago that I woke. And when I did, I found us six, strong. Even though I was the biggest of us all, 13 was always our leader—strong, brave, and very wise. This good heart of his, it's barely changed over these years. And 14, his lovely wife, so dainty and feminine, a sweetheart and a good mother. She's little miss Susie-homemaker, at heart; she's all about her home, and her family. She makes her love feel like a king, and his home feel like a castle.

"There were also the twins, goofy little Harlequins, if you ask me. 12 has always been a tinkerer at heart, his hands busy with wires and circuits. He's got a real habit for building things, and for teaching us, in turn. But that sister of his, that wily 11 lass… Och, she's been trouble from the moment she took her first breath. She's a jealous sort, 11. Convinced she's got no real talent, she's desperate for attention. If it's not completely focused on her, she's furious."

"_Which is why she's so mad at me," _I guessed.

"Indeed. But back then, there was another of us, and that was 10. She was only a small child, barely younger than you are now. Now _there_ was the sweetest little child you had ever set your eye on. She was a sprightly wee lassie, like a bubble of light. And, being younger than her brother and sister, she naturally needed a little more attention from their parents.

"And you know that 11 would have none of that. She would cut off her own twin, if she weren't so bound to him. While the rest of us loved her dearly, 11 just hated her. I didn't have to be alive for an hour to see that.

"But 13 and 14 were another story, entirely. Oh, they loved all three of their little ones so much, it had them rather blinded. I always felt that they sensed something was wrong… but they couldn't bring themselves to believe it. They could never believe that one of their children would really try to harm the others. Whatever they might have sensed, they ignored it."

"_That actually sounds familiar, sort of."_

"When it comes your turn to tell your story, I'll be interested to hear all about it. No more interrupting, please."

"_Sorry…"_

"Well, several years passed—the war began, the humans were all killed, and the world finally fell silent. The six of us scratched out a life, here in the north, using all our varied abilities. 12 designed and built half the complex, with our help. 11, 13 and myself are warriors, hunters; we keep our family safe. 14 stays here, mostly, keeping the house and the children, like she does. In those days of darkness and uncertainty, 10 was a source of light and joy. Without her to cheer us, I'm certain we might have lost our minds. There was little the lass could really do to help us… But that smile of hers, it could have restored light to a fading star. Hers was a gentle, compassionate soul. She always knew that her sister despised her, but it never seemed to matter. She loved 11 and looked up to her, even to the last."

15 bowed his head sadly and paused, unable to continue. I had hoped through this whole story that 10 had run away, or gotten lost, but might still be around somewhere. Something told me that this hope was badly placed.

"_So… Where is she now?"_

15 looked over into a corner and sighed, striking another match before the last one went out. "It was in the previous summer," he explained, rising to his feet and helping me up. "We were all out in the ruins together, for a change. It was a beautiful day—as beautiful as it could have been, in those days… Out of curiosity, what were you doing last summer, lad?"

"_Oh… Probably nothing,"_ I recalled as we began to walk a little way off. _"I lived in a library, full of books. I was probably just reading and cataloguing, like always. Can you __please__ just tell me what happened?"_

"I should finish the story, instead of chasing wee rabbits down their holes, trying to stall for time," he mused, even though he was headed down a rabbit hole, anyway. As we walked, he continued with the story.

"Well, we were together for a spell; but the children grew restless and wandered off on their own. I had warned 13 that it was a bad idea to leave them alone together, but he insisted that it would be fine. Still blind, he couldn't see what I saw so clearly. I should have done as my instincts said and followed them, anyway. But I wanted to trust my brother—my leader—so I remained still.

"Not half an hour later, 12 comes racing up to us, in a frantic panic, screaming that 10's been hurt. When we found her, she was pinned under a wooden board that seemed to have collapsed on top of her. Her whole lower half had been crushed under its weight. We got her out and brought her back, but…

"The damage done to her circuitry was too extensive; it was even beyond 12's skill. There was nothing that we could do to save her."

"…_She died."_

"Aye. A slow, painful, horrifying death, at that. Her voice box had been damaged so badly, she could barely speak; but, while she still had breath, she kept calling out for 11. They thought she wanted her big sister, her idol, by her side as she died… But I always thought she was trying to tell us something. Something terrible and important, that 13 and 14 never would have believed."

"_You think 11 had something to do with it?"_

"I believe she had_ everything_ to do with it. I'm almost positive. My niece and I are quite close; possessing such powerful wills, I suppose it's natural. She's said things in the past… I do love that child with all my heart, but she is a bad, _bad_ person inside."

"_And you still love her that much?"_

"Love is often complicated, 3. We don't always chose who or when or where to love, sometimes our hearts decide for us, before we even know what's going on. Maybe some people need more love than others, and that's what speaks to us, here," he explained, pointing down at my chest. He brought us to a stop, before a small mound in the dirt floor, its head marked with a wooden cross.

I realized at once where 15 had brought me.

"_This… This is her grave."_

"Aye, it is," he said solemnly, kneeling beside the mound and gently brushing the top with his fingers. "…She took so much of our hope and joy with her. You should have seen how 14 wept… I thought for sure, her own soul would split apart and die with this child. She's been in so much pain…"

"_She seemed like she was,"_ I commented, recalling several small things that had come across as odd about her, that all made sense now. _"15, they said they don't want me to be her replacement, but… __do__ they?"_

"Nothing could replace 10 in our hearts. Nothing. And they know that. Perhaps, though, you can help heal us all. But what of your real parents, lad? We would appreciate your company for all it is; but if that means taking a child away from a mother and father who love him, we won't ask it."

"_I don't see how they can love me anymore…"_

15 considered me carefully; kneeling, he was almost as tall as my shoulder.

"You've been through quite a lot, yourself."

I nodded slowly, and he sighed again, looking longingly at the wooden cross.

"13 and 14 don't seek to replace you, that is true. But 11 will not care. She will see you as a replacement—a new object for others to focus on instead of her, a filler for a pest she had worked hard to be rid of. She will try with everything she is to be rid of you, as well. Should you accept our adoption, you put yourself in great danger. Are you truly willing to do this?"

That was a lot to consider. On the one hand, I could stay with my new family, and have to deal with 11. On the other, I could make what seemed like a pointless journey back to the library, only to be shunned by my old family. Either option suddenly seemed hopeless. At least here, only one person hated me. Still… If I let them adopt me, I could never return. It didn't seem like that should matter anymore. But I thought of my mother, and my heart went out to her.

I just didn't know what to do.

"You don't have to make up your mind this instant," 15 informed when I hesitated. "If you decide to go back, there's no travelling in the storm. We may be snowed in for a blighted long time. Stay a while, know what it's like to live with the Deka-punks, and make your decision when the snow thaws. If 11 hasn't frightened you through and through, perhaps you will stay."

"_I'd like to stay, though."_

"Just think about it, first. Please. This isn't a choice to be made lightly."

I looked down at the little grave and thought of 14. Her baby had died. By her other child's hand. I suddenly found an amazing appreciation for 0, and what he meant to mama and papa. I had been about to break their hearts ad badly as 11 had broken her parent's.

Maybe 11 and I weren't so different…

"Do tread carefully while you're here, lad," 15 advised, standing back up. "It's a close and well-lit space, hard to get lost in. All the same, don't be alone, if you can help it. If you find yourself so, correct it. Try not to get too close to 11, and don't let her get you somewhere alone. My brother and sister will assure you that her moodiness is just the way she is, and that it shouldn't be feared. But I have seen glimpses of the monsters that lurk in her soul. Everything about her is to be feared by you. Don't trust her, and don't trust what the others say about her. She won't make your life here easy."

Monsters in her soul, huh? She had let it grow and overtake her, maybe unaware that it was there at all. It had helped her actually kill her little sister—or so 15 said. I could have ended up just as bad off as she was. That was a cheery thought…

"_Thank you, 15, for all of this."_

He smiled down at me, put his arm around my shoulder, and guided me back to the tunnel.

"Now you know our story, lad. Perhaps you would tell us yours."


	16. Chapter 15: Winter

A two-parter, cuz we can't entirely forget that 9 is still alive somewhere. The song near the end is from _Fun and Fancy Free_.

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Chapter 15: Winter

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The storm rolled in with an appetite, and it snowed for days without a break. Below in our cozy burrow, we were safe enough. The problem I found was the unexpected boredom of being trapped inside with nothing to read. All the Deka-punks could read, but it wasn't a hobby any of them had. I tried filling all the empty time by joining them in the hobbies they did have.

I took 15's advice and stuck close to the adults, joining them first. 13 and 15 were both warriors, and preferred to spend the winter seeing to their equipment; they also made several repairs to the tunnels that had been put off until there was time to fix them. That didn't hold my attention for very long, and I was in the way more than I was helpful. I decided to see what 14 did in her spare time, instead.

15 hadn't been kidding when he said his sister was Suzie-homemaker at heart. She thrived in the domestic role of mother and wife; it had taken mama a while to feel comfortable in it. It was as if 14 had been designed to keep house while the others were busy. Her time revolved around simple, seemingly menial tasks—sweeping floors, mending what little laundry they had, and keeping the common spaces in order. She was thrilled that I offered to help, even though I found it as boring as what 13 and 15 were doing. I wondered if 10 used to help her around the house, but I chose not to ask too much about that.

When I gave up on that, I hung around with 12. His half of the room he shared with 11 was full of odds and ends, waiting to have a use. After a few days with him, I found that his particular talent was with electricity. He had rigged up the yards of Christmas lights that illuminated every part of the complex, and he was very proud.

"It comes kind of naturally," he explained. "I dunno… I saw the box full of Christmas lights in the basement, and I saw the circuit breaker on the wall, and I just started wondering, 'How does that work?' So I picked it up and figured it out. It was pretty easy, actually. I can teach you, if you'd like."

"_No thanks,"_ I answered, still not understanding how any of the wires worked after nearly a week with him. _"I only build things when I have to. There is this one thing I built, with my sister—"_

"Oh! You've got a sister?"

Oops. I had slipped up once or twice and mentioned my family, leaving the Dekas wondering more and more about where I had come from. It had been almost three weeks that I had been with them, and I hadn't been able to tell them my story. That was visibly starting to peeve 15. I had to get it over with, and soon.

The only one of them I hadn't spent time with was 11. Partially, because I knew that she was dangerous. But also, she didn't seem to do much. She made herself desperately available wherever she was needed, always an extra set of hands. She knew how to do all things that needed doing in the complex, but she wasn't particularly good at any of them. Perhaps that was part of why she was so angry all the time. But I somehow doubted she would appreciate it if I offered to help her.

When she wasn't needed, she sat alone on the couch in the den, brooding like a god of storms. She reminded me vaguely of someone whenever she did that, but I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time.

Finally, I had to sit down with them and tell them my story. They already knew I knew theirs, and they were dying to know mine. One evening, with the wind howling outside, I told them the entire tale—what had happened to the Primes, where we were now, and why I had run away. They all listened patiently to the story, rapt by the excitement, adventure, tragedy, and what little romance seemed relevant, closer to the end.

Wow. Altogether, it was a really good story. The stuff of epic legends, the sort of things I only thought happened in fairy tales, or in the exploits of the gods of old. But it had _really_ happened. To _me_, and my family. I suddenly wondered… Did that make the Prime clan some kind of pantheon of minor gods?

I finished, saying that it seemed like my family didn't want me anymore; thought at first, I left out the exact reason I had run away. I looked around the room at the five different faces. 13 and 14 both looked sympathetic and concerned, more than prepared to offer any comfort they could give. 15 regarded me pensively, probably sensing that I was still hiding something. 12 was amazed that someone younger than him could have had so many adventures in so little time, and that I turned out to have a twin, myself.

And, for the first time, 11 wasn't glaring at me. She actually looked interested, intrigued. Perhaps she was beginning to trust me…?

I decided not to trust that hope.

"That is quite a story," 13 said after a pause. "I hadn't thought it would be quite so long."

"I rather like the sound of this father of yours," 15 said with a smile. "I get the feeling that he and my brother could get along quite well."

"_I think so, too,"_ I agreed.

"I can understand why you ran away," 11 said suddenly. "Little brothers and sisters can be a bother."

12 gave her that unimpressed look again. "_I'm_ your little brother," he pointed out.

"Oh, you're my twin, and you're barely five seconds younger than I am; that's different. His parents made a whole new child. How would _you_ feel if mother and father did that to us?"

"Not altogether opposed. I liked being a big brother."

11 rolled her eyes at him, and looked back to me, her face oddly neutral. "All I'm saying is, I would have run away, too. I think you did the right thing."

I gave her a small, thankful smile. But her eyes narrowed back into a glare that seemed to say, "Don't think we're friends now. _You_ are the little brother, now."

I could see what 15 had meant, that she had said things before that sounded strange. What would mama and papa said, if they head heard the things she had just said? For sure, they'd be suspicious, at least; they both had this way of sensing when people were up to no good. They had certainly sensed it in me. What did 13 and 14 think of it?

As if reading my thoughts, 13 gave her a stern look and said, "You don't have to miss your sister; you know we don't require you to think anything about anything. But don't you dare speak about her that way in front of us again, young lady. Is that clear?"

11 didn't answer, but she gave him an apologetic look.

It seemed like the Dekas had as many conversations with their faces as they did with their voices. That suited me fine; I found that sometimes I didn't want to know what they were talking about.

A few days later, 12 took me on an adventure, just the two of us—as brothers, he said. That made me feel ridiculously good, but also a little sad. This must have been the same good feeling that ma and papa had gotten from having brothers of their own. It was special and kind of powerful, somehow different from having a sister, but just as important. It was strange and complicated to explain, but it was good.

They must have missed their brothers so much. But they had tried to share that feeling with me, when they made 0. I'd had an opportunity to be a big brother, and I had wasted it. As great as it felt to have a brother again, I couldn't help but feel a little miserable at the same time.

12 led me back down the tunnel that led to the basement, armed with a lantern he had made. It was battery-powered, not unlike papa's light stick, brighter and more reliable than a match or a candle. When we got to the cavernous basement, we could see almost a full foot in front of our faces, and we climbed down the scaffolding to the ground with ease.

"There's a flight of stairs that leads up into the house," he explained as we walked. "We don't go in there much; but, after hearing your story, I remembered. There's something inside I think you'll appreciate."

"_What is it, 12?"_

He grinned and answered, "It's a surprise."

We stopped only once, as we came to 10's grave.

"We should pay our respects," he said solemnly, kneeling beside his buried sister and bowing his head briefly. I didn't feel like it was quite my place yet to join him, and remained standing; but I also bowed my head and said a prayer of my own.

_You were brave, not be afraid of your sister. She's terrifying, in any case. But I really hope it's not true. I really hope it's not her fault that you died. And, if you are watching from somewhere, just know that I would never try to take your place, okay? All of us have lost so much, and I just want to help your family. They want to help me, as well. I hope you're at peace, wherever you are, 10. I know I've never met you, but I wish you were still here._

After a long moment of respectful silence, we continued on our way. We climbed the stairs up the stairs to the basement door, which was falling off its hinges and open enough for us to get through. On the other side, we found ourselves in a dark, war-torn kitchen. 12 knew exactly where he was going, and led me on through the lower story of the house until we found the living room.

And there against the wall was a tall, wide bookshelf, full of books. Glorious books! The most I had seen since I had run from the library. Certainly not as many as there had been back home, but enough to last for maybe the whole rest of the winter.

"What do you think? Do you like it?" 12 asked with a smile.

"_I love it!"_ I exclaimed, and raced up to the lowest shelf. _"Thank you, 12! Thank you so much!"_

"Awesome! I knew you'd be happy to see books again," he said. "We're not much for reading, ourselves, unless we need real information. But you're different like that. I don't think I knew you could just go and look for information just for the sake of finding it. You must know a whole lot of stuff, huh, 3?"

"_Yeah, I guess I do,"_ I agreed, pulling the thickest volume I could find to the floor. _"Want to come and read with me?"_

"Yeah, sure," he said, and came to sit with me while I turned to the first page.

Oh, books. I had missed them so. I didn't care what book I had even picked out, whether it was one I had read before, or full of knowledge I particularly needed or cared about. And it happened to be dedicated entirely to the world of ancient Greece—a favorite of mine, any day.

This long winter wasn't going to be so boring after all.

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It would not stop snowing, and the wind refused to be silenced. In a matter of hours after the blizzard started, we were completely trapped inside the library, and it seemed that we would be until spring came again. The icing on the cake of misery was that even _more_ snow poured in through the holes in the roof. It was literally everywhere, and it was freezing cold no matter how many fires we lit or blankets we bundled ourselves with at night. After only a few days of this, we let 4 and 0 come and sleep in our room again, where the small space was easier to keep warm. 7 and I feared they might freeze to death, otherwise.

In fact, with so much cold and so little to be done in the face of it, all that we wanted to do anymore was sleep. At least we would be spared the urge to constantly complain, which was all we could really do when we were awake. 4 said that this was called hibernation, and that many animals hibernated through the winter because for them, being active when it was so cold was pointless.

Now that it was a real thing, with a name and a purpose, we didn't feel so bad about sleeping for fifteen or twenty hours a day. It was like the cold sapped us of our energy, and left us feeling exhausted and unable to move. We weren't animals, and we couldn't sleep for months at a time; but after a few hours of being awake, we were all ready to sleep again for a long time.

When we were awake, all we could do was be miserable. Sometimes, we would wake and find our bedroom door frozen shut or blocked by snowdrifts. That was 0's first taste of his mother's crippling fear of being trapped, and mine as well. The first time this happened, she had a panic attack so bad that she nearly fainted. I had never seen her so afraid before.

Luckily, this had an easy fix. Ice melts when met with flame, so I held a lit match to the door for a few moments. After that, it opened easily. It cheered me a little the first few times, knowing that I fixed something. After that, it just became another thing I had to do, another problem that needed fixing at all. Blasted snow. Damned snow. I hated it so much.

The only one of us who couldn't be completely disheartened was 0. Somehow, he remained hopeful and optimistic that this would be over, eventually. I supposed he must have gotten that from me, and I was glad of that. His hopefulness was the only thing that kept any of us from completely giving up. Somewhere in the back of my mind, that same dying spark of hope refused to go out. And it seemed to reassure 4 and 7, a little bit.

It was still hard, though. 4 was so sad, she barely spoke for the three or four months we were snowed in. Without a doubt, she was the saddest of all of us. 7's fear of imprisonment made her worry constantly, until I sometimes wondered if it was killing her. On days when she was too cold to even _want _to move, it hurt her deeply enough to make her cry in front of the children. And I worried, myself. Even when the snow melted, there would still be plenty of problems to face. And 3 was still missing. We were faring so poorly, I didn't see how he could have survived this long on his own.

I feared I would never see my son again. Of all the fears I had about this horrible winter, this was the one that nearly broke me.

One afternoon about halfway through the winter, 7 decided to attempt a walk around the building. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, after all—she hoped that maybe, if she could just get on her feet and move around, she could cure her uncomfortable placidness. It seemed as good an idea as any, and I went with her into the drafty building. Part of me silently worried about what could happen, if she went alone.

Anyway, we hadn't been alone in weeks. Once again, we had been together for every step of this months-long ordeal, but I missed my wife. In spite of everything, it would be nice to have her to myself for a while; and she seemed to feel the same about me. Perhaps we could even find something halfway pleasant to talk about. Perhaps we could manage to recapture that first hour and a half, when the snow had been so magical and beautiful, before it had become the plague that it was.

We didn't get very far from our room, though. It was so much colder outside, it drained us in a matter of minutes. 7 sank down in the soft, crunchy snow and hugged her knees to her chest, pulling her cloak close and throwing the hood over her head. With a despairing sigh, she rested her chin on her knees and looked off into space. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulder, taking her hand in my free one. She snuggled close to me and we sat in silence for a while, listening to the wind whistling through the roof.

"It's going to snow again next year, isn't it," she commented quietly.

Ug, that was a scary thought. I supposed that she was right, but it frightened me too much to answer. She took my silence for the agreement that it was and continued with her thought.

"Will we even live to see it?"

"…Well, we're doing alright, I suppose. I mean, we could be doing worse."

"How could we possibly be doing worse?"

I shrugged vaguely, not sure, myself. "We don't need food to survive. If we did, we wouldn't have lasted this long."

She didn't answer, and she didn't look comforted.

"Um… If we'd had fewer candles to light… If we hadn't thought to make so many blankets, we would have been even colder. We still have 4 and 0, and they're still alive. We do have things to be thankful for."

She looked up at me with sad, tired eyes, silently telling me to stop trying to cheer her up, because it wasn't working. She was so sad, so lost. That look on her face broke my heart. I longed to see her happy again, smiling and laughing and singing like she had been before. But there was so little to be happy about, it almost seemed an unreasonable thing to want from anyone.

I reached up and caressed her face; her skin was as cold and pale as ice, and my own copper fingers weren't much better off. She raised her hand against mine and held it close against her face, savoring my touch for a long moment. Even if I had no idea where tomorrow would find us all, she knew exactly where she would be: safe and alive, with her children, with me to protect them. That made me feel good, but it was also impossibly daunting.

"This winter's taken so much from me," I mused quietly. "My son… My freedom… Your beautiful smile…"

She slowly looked back up, still sad, but flattered. I guided her face closer to mine, until the rims of our eyes touched with a soft clink.

"Oh, 7. My sweet 7. My treasure. I would give anything to see you smiling again."

The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lips, but it wasn't strong enough to last. Mostly, she looked like she just wanted to cry. She paused for a moment…

"Tell me about good things; tell me about beauty. Tell me about the sun—"

Her voice broke painfully; the wall holding her tears back was beginning to fall apart. Through quiet sobs she continued, "Tell me about spring and summer; about flowers, and the grass; about the birds and their song, and how they'll come back one day…"

As the last of the wall fell away, she held me close and rested her head weakly on my shoulder.

"Tell me where my brothers and my son have gone," she cried. "Tell me they've gone somewhere where it never snows!"

I could no longer help it. As I rocked her back and forth, I began to cry, as well. We must have sat there in tears for nearly an hour. Oddly, it was more soothing and comforting than all the love we might have made to keep the tears hidden. Who knew that the simple and seemingly childish act of crying could bring such relief? It had seemed like a silly, immature reaction to any problem—when there were things to be done, why sit around and cry about them?

But there was nothing to be done. We were tired, cold, and broken; and we had no idea how much longer this nightmare would last. We had almost given up hope that it would ever end at all. But at least, in the end, we were together. We had done so much together already. Surely, as long as we could still lean on one another, we could survive this winter.

In spite of everything, my tears ran out faster than hers. While she continued to weep into my shoulder, I held her close to keep from falling over. I suddenly felt dizzy and unsteady. For a moment, I wasn't quite sure why we were crying so hard to begin with. In my moment of confusion, I decided to try one more time to cheer 7. I didn't sing much, but it had never failed in the past to charm her; she said that my singing voice warmed her heart, which was high praise I wasn't ready to believe.

One certain song came to mind at once, from a record we had listened to in the summer. How did it go, again…?

_This is too good to be true  
>I can't believe it's real<br>Can it be you  
>I really see<br>I never knew I'd find an angel  
>And out of the blue<br>You came to me_

_You're all the heavenly things  
>That I've been dreaming of<br>Don't spread your wings  
>And fly away<br>But if you're only passing through  
>Then take me to heaven with you<br>Or is this a dream  
>Too good to be true<em>

By the end of the song, she had stopped crying to hear me better. But her breath still came in shaky hiccups.

"I love you."

"I know you do. I can feel it all around me, every single day. And I love you, impossibly."

"Things are terrible right now, I know," I whispered, rocking her again, "but it won't be like this forever. And it won't be this bad next year. We've learned so much already from this snow, we'll be better prepared when it comes again. I won't let this happen to us next time. I promise."

She sat back and looked up at me, with a weak but present smile on her face.

"I trust you, 9. I trust you with everything I am."

What remained of the winter would still be hard. But suddenly, it was bearable. Suddenly, I could do just about anything. I carefully scooped her up and rose to my feet, heading back the way we had come.

"Let's get you back near a fire, before we both freeze."

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Author's Notes…

It has been decided: one of the Dekas will get their very own chapter. Neither 9 nor 3 will be able to narrate, and it makes no sense to just skip the ensuing action.

The next chapter will not only be short, but will also end in a panic-inducing cliffhanger. Have fun with that, y'all. ;)


	17. Chapter 16: The Loneliest Number

Chapter 16: The Loneliest Number

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The winter wore on and on, and I remained safe with the Dekas. The longer I ended up stuck with them, the surer I was that, in the spring, I would let them adopt me for real. Already, I felt like I really was one of them. There was still a lot I had to learn about being a Deka-punk, but they said that I had the harder part of it down—basically surviving the winter, which we all knew was a little worse there, in the northern part of the city, than in the southern part where I had lived my whole life.

I hoped that boded well for the other Primes. I had only been outside a few times since I had run away, and it was pretty nasty out. How much better could it really be, only a few miles away? I hoped they were doing alright.

After about four and a half months of this, the sun became brighter and warmer in the sky, and the snow began to melt away, a little bit more every day. 12 marveled at this, wondering how that worked. Knowing the mechanics of planetary orbits highlighted my excitement of the returning spring, and I happily explained it to him.

"_Our planet travels in an elliptical orbit around the sun,"_ I explained, drawing a rough diagram in the receding snow. _"And the sun isn't in the exact center of the orbit; it's more to one side, see? That means, when the earth is on one end of its orbit, it's closer to the sun. And when it's on the other end, it's farther from the sun."_

12's eyes lit up as it dawned on him, "…And that's what causes the seasons! So, we've been on the far end of the orbit all this time, so we've been farther from the sun's heat, and that's why it gets colder in the winter."

"_That's right."_

"But now we've coming closer, and it's melting the snow and making everything warm again."

"_Yeah. And that's how it works, every year."_

"That is _so_ cool! You're so smart, 3. Thank you!"

I had never been the younger brother before; I had always been the biggest. It was awesome, having a big brother. And we had a lot of fun together, that winter. In fact, he had discovered a love of reading that he hadn't been aware of before he began to read with me. We spent a lot of our free time in the house's living room, pouring through books. By the time the snow began to melt, we had gone through several large books, and almost all of the smaller ones. The ones we had finished were staked in a bunch of short piles on the floor, and they grew a little taller every week.

One fateful day, we sat alone in the living room as always, with 12's lantern lighting our space. Then, all at once, the light went out. 12 picked the lantern up and shook it a little, trying to make it come back on. The little bulb inside flickered a little, but it faded and went out again.

"Oh well," he said with a sigh. "The battery was getting pretty worn, anyway."

"_Should we go back for a new one? You've got a bunch in your room."_

"Nah, we don't have to go all the way back, just for a battery. There are some in a package in the other room," he supplied, getting up and trotting off to find one of them.

"Hm, now which drawer did I find them in…?"

He vanished into an adjacent room, leaving me momentarily alone in the dark. While I waited for him to come back, I read to myself out loud, using my eyelights to light the page. After only a minute or two, I heard footsteps approaching from the entrance in the kitchen. I looked up to see who it was, expecting 13 or 15 to have come to check on us.

Instead, I saw 11 stalking quickly toward me, her shock of scarlet hair like a flame in the dark.

"I had a feeling that thing would go out soon," she said in a low, menacing voice.

I jumped to my feet, terrified but ready to defend myself. After all this time, I had forgotten 15's warning to never be alone. Now that 12 was gone, who was there to stop or see her?

"_What are you doing here?"_ I asked.

"Something I should have done sooner, before you let my parents get so attached to you. Do you really think they'd give you up on their own, now?"

She was here to kill me. That was clear. But why?

"_What do you mean?"_ I asked, playing dumb. In response, she stopped short and laughed hoarsely.

"Ha! You're just as stupid as my idiot little sister was. How was she so much more important than me, anyway? She was small, and weak, and she couldn't actually _do_ anything but smile like a witless fool. All she could ever do was smile, even when there was nothing worth smiling about. "

"_What does that have to do with me?"_

"After she died, everything was just fine. Oh, they were all sad for a while, sure. But that passed. Our lives have been quiet and orderly, all this time. And then _you_ show up, and you disrupt everything, just like her! You distract them, take up their time and energy, pester them with questions—who the hell do you presume to be? You're a stranger and you're a thief, stealing my family from me, and it's going to end right now!"

With the speed and grace of a serpent, she whipped out a long-bladed knife and advanced on me again. I began to back away, not sure of what I could do, and looked into the other room as far as I could.

"_12!"_ I flickered as loud as I could. It sounded louder in my head, but I knew he wouldn't hear me. 11 grinned evilly, also aware of this.

"That is the one good thing about you," she growled. "No one can hear you if you scream."

She leaped at me like a jungle cat, and I dodged away barely in time. I dashed away as fast as I could, and she pursued with a furious snarl. She chased me around the room for several minutes, under and over things scattered on the floor, trying to catch me. But I was smaller and sometimes quicker, and evaded her with ease.

But I wasn't built to run for long, and I tired faster. Before I knew what was happening, she had headed me off, snatched me by the shoulder, and run me through on her blade. I was so stunned, I didn't feel the pain right away. But when it hit me, it shot through every inch of my body like a lightning bolt and made me dizzy and limp. I felt the sharp edge slice through my wiring, severing something that felt important, and piercing through my back. It was the most horrifying thing I had ever felt.

All motor skills lost, all I could do was slump forward against 11's chest, skewered on her knife and my shoulder still caught in her painfully tight grip. Her goal accomplished, she chuckled cruelly, satisfied. Not content, not proud, but satisfied. I struggled to look up and failed; I could barely speak. But I had to ask:

"…_why?"_

11 leaned devilishly close and whispered in my ear, "They can never see what little cockroaches like you and 10 do to them. They're all blind; they can't see how much precious time they waste on you. But _I_ see it. I see it, and I can fix it. I can _help_ them.

"Sometimes, one must be sacrificed for the good of many."

A chill went through my very soul. I finally realized who she reminded me of: greedy, mean, conceited, useless 1. Even her name was nothing but the number 1. Everything was suddenly so clear.

Her work finished, she stepped back from me, mercilessly ripping her knife away and letting me fall to the floor. I tried to fall to the side and not hit my head, but I hit my head anyway. As if the terrible pain wasn't enough, now I saw lights bursting before my eyes. As they cleared, the last thing I saw was 11 walking back the way she had come from, quickly and quietly as she had come in.

Her number name stood out loud and clear, even in the dark, written in ink as red as her hair—the loneliest number, printed twice between her shoulders like blood.

That was the last thing I saw before I passed out, dizzy, shocked, and in pain. _So _much pain. A single thought crossed my mind:

I wanted my papa.

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Author's Notes…

Told you it would be a cliffhanger. :P


	18. Chapter 17: A Noble Quest

Chapter 17: A Noble Quest

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It had been a while, and the den was amazingly quiet. 12 and 3 had ventured off to the house to read again; I wasn't sure if I liked them being so far away, but it was something for them to do, I supposed. I was glad they had a thing to do together, as brothers. My own brother and I did nearly everything together. But 12 had never had a brother before; it seemed to come naturally to him.

Some time ago, 11 had left as well, possibly to find what they were doing. She had a knack for causing trouble, though; I didn't bother worrying, but I didn't entirely trust her, either. 15 seemed to feel the same, and volunteered to go see what they were all up to.

For the first time in several weeks, 14 and I had the burrow completely to ourselves.

"So…" she said with a wistful sigh, "spring is here again."

"It's an exciting time of the year, isn't it?" I commented, holding her close. "Everything is so much brighter and warmer. Especially after all the snow. It's a magical time."

"All that snow… The only really great thing about the snow was that it kept 3 from leaving."

Now that we were alone, without children to upset, or 15 to offer his ridged opinions, we could discuss this out loud. The snow had almost completely melted; tender green shoots of grass were even popping up here and there in the chilly mud. The winter had lasted so long, we had sort of forgotten—now that it was behind us and he could leave if he wanted, it was time for 3 to make his decision.

"13, what will he do?"

"I can't say. It's been a very long winter, and… I would want to see my family. I don't know… I do want him to stay. I want so badly to keep him. But there is another man somewhere who is missing his son. As much as I want it, it just doesn't feel right. I feel like a thief."

14 sighed again. "I know what you mean, though. 10 was taken so violently from me; I would never make another mother go through something like that, just for my comfort. Even if he chooses to stay with us, do you think he should go back, anyway?"

"A child's place is with his parents."

"But _we_ could be his parents."

"We could be… But we're not _his_ mother and father. When all is said and done… I just don't know. It really is up to 3, I suppose. I don't know what he'll choose."

"But if he does choose to stay, will that truly be the end of it? Will we ever have to talk about this again? We can't just pretend his family doesn't exist, can we? What if they're looking for him? Surely, if they're as good as he says they are, they'll be looking for him."

"He seems pretty confident that they aren't."

"Children are never sure about anything. You've said so yourself. Many times."

"That is true…"

Part of me wouldn't have minded if he chose to go back where he came from. After listening to his stories, I really wanted to meet the other remaining Primes. I couldn't believe we had been so disconnected all these years. We were all cousins; we were a family, and we'd had no idea. Even if 3 decided he wanted to go back, I couldn't see how it could be a permanent goodbye. If 9 and 7 were anything like their son said they were, I wanted to know them. I wanted them closer to us.

A few more minutes passed in peace and quiet. Now that we were the only ones around, the den seemed cavernous and empty. It was nice…

Suddenly, I heard my name echoing frantically from the tunnel that led into the basement. It sounded like 15, and he sounded alarmed—that couldn't be good. An alarm went off in my own head, a terrifyingly familiar sensation of knowing that something was very wrong. I walked quickly toward the tunnel, just in time for 12 to sprint out of the dark and right into me, nearly knocking me over.

"What's happened?" I asked my son, helping him steady himself. He looked up at me with horror in his eyes.

"Father, it's 3—he's hurt, and t's really bad! We have to help him!"

At once, my heart began to pound with dread. As soon as he finished speaking, 15 loomed out of the tunnel, with 3 unconscious in his arms. My brother looked just as horrified and worried as my son did.

"There be something foul about this," 15 commented, laying the boy back on the sofa, where the light was better. "Though what it is, I can't say."

"What's the matter with him?" 14 asked.

"Look for yourself, sister."

We both came forward and assessed the damage. His chest had been ripped open, leaving an amazingly clean cut. Carefully, nervous of what I would find within, I eased the soft fabric aside to see his wiring. Three cables had been severed, one of them shorting pitifully at the fraying ends. Whatever had done this had also sliced his back open, so I could see the sofa on the other side.

The horror. 14 gasped sharply and snatched 12 close to her. Safe in her arms, he began to cry a little. I was paralyzed. How could this have happened? He was only a child. Just looking at the damage, I could tell this had not been an accident.

"12, do you think you can fix this?" I asked.

"I already tried to," he sniffled. "But he's different inside than we are. I don't know how to fix him. I don't know what to do! He's going to die because of me!"

"Don't say that," I demanded. "We can't let him die, not after all this time."

"What are we supposed to do, then?" 15 asked. "12 is the only one of us with any skill with wires. We don't know the first thing about this."

I let my head sink into my hands, trying to think of a solution. And trying to think of an explanation. How could this have happened? Who could have done this? I looked up slowly, feeling helpless and useless, and surveyed my frightened family. 14 held 12 close and rocked him gently as he continued to cry; she looked ready to cry, too, but couldn't when he needed her strength. 15 stood at the ready, waiting for me, the leader, to come up with an idea. I sat on the edge of the sofa, my mind racing desperately for some shred of a plan. And 3 lay on the sofa beside me, dying slowly.

Wait... It dawned on me that someone was missing.

"Brother, where is 11?"

"I haven't seen her," he answered, his voice evenly flat.

"12?"

"I haven't seen her all day," he whimpered.

"She wasn't with you in the house?"

Before he could answer, 14 hushed and shook her head.

"What are you saying, 13? 11 wouldn't have done this. She couldn't have!"

"Couldn't she, though?"

It killed me, but she was the only one who could have done this. She was the only one who hadn't been accounted for; she had never liked 3 being with us; and, worst of all, I was forced to admit… It made clear, perfect sense. All of a sudden, I was back to where I had been the previous summer, on this very sofa, watching my youngest child dying of a shockingly similar death blow.

It had been so much. I couldn't bring myself to believe that 11 had been responsible for 10's death. I couldn't really believe that it was true. 15 had always said that if only I would open my eyes and pay attention, I would see the truth—I wouldn't have to keep asking why these horrible things had happened, because I would know for myself. I wouldn't like the truth, he said, but it would be better than sitting still, demanding answers of greater powers.

I had been furious. My daughter had just died. How could he have accused the only one I had left of killing her? Even if it had been true—which I convinced myself that it couldn't be—how did he expect this to help? What was I supposed to do?

But something fell from my eyes, and I suddenly saw everything for what it was. 11 had done this, and she had to face the consequences. I had loved her too much—or maybe not enough—and handed her my trust, let her run wild, and I paid for my folly with one of my own children. Now, I had done it again, and it would cost me a child that wasn't even mine. By the stars, I refused to make another father pay for my mistakes like this.

Another father… My whole mind was illuminated. That was the answer!

"I think I have an idea," I announced, jumping up and taking my lighter cloak from its place on the wall.

"Where are going?" 14 demanded.

"To find the Primes. 9 built an entirely new 'punk—surely he can fix his own son."

"3 needs help now! We might not have that much time!"

"It's our only hope," I insisted. She still looked doubtful and worried, so I pulled her and 12 into a reassuring hug.

"Their territory isn't that far away—only a few hours' time, getting there and back again. I could be back with them before nightfall."

She smiled weakly and nodded her head. "I have faith in you, then."

With her extraordinary faith filling me up, I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do; I leaned closer and gave her a thankful goodbye kiss. Then I turned to 12, placing my hands firmly on his shoulders.

"This is not your fault, son."

"We lost 10 because of me," he sobbed. "If I had known how to fix her, she'd still be alive. I worked so hard to learn how to fix us, so that would never have to happen again, and it's happening again! This is _all_ my fault!"

"That isn't true. You've done all you knew to do, and that's all we can ask of you. I'm proud of you."

He looked up at me, fretful and unsure. I gently kissed the top of his head and held him close.

"Keep him alive, just a little while longer. I'll be back with help, as fast as I can. I know you can do this."

Finally, I turned to my brother. His face was neutral, unreadable, the one he wore while waiting for a command; but it also seemed to silently say, "Don't blame me, I tried to warn you."

I knew what I needed him to do for me… But I wasn't sure what to say to him, now that I had accepted the truth he had known all along.

"15… I'm so sorry. I should have listened to you. If I had—"

"That doesn't matter anymore, brother," he insisted, his face still blank. "What are your orders?"

"Find 11. Find out what happened—don't let her lie and fool anyone this time. Keep her in here, too. When I get back with the other Primes, I want her to see what trouble she's caused, clear as crystal."

15 gave me a relieved, thankful smile. "As you wish, 13. May the powers go with you on your noble quest."

Not the typical words of forgiveness; but I felt him accept my apology, all the same. I dashed out of the den, down the tunnel that led outside. The sun shone bright and warm, and the air was cool and a little damp. The Primes lived directly to the south, I knew for sure now. Using the sun for a guide, I quickly figured my direction and took off through the reviving ruins.

All around me, the only snow left was well-hidden in shady places where the sun didn't reach. Even there, hardy weeds were springing up through the cold mud—splashes of bright green against the crisp white. Everywhere else, it was grass and wild flowers, popping up out of the ground with a vengeance. It was barely any warmer the few miles to the south I was going, but I wondered how much more glorious the spring would be.

I paced myself carefully, alternately walking and running so I wouldn't lose steam. All told, the four mile trek wasn't a painfully long one; but it was the longest one I had ever made alone. And I hadn't been this way in a very long time—nearly five years. At my quick, steady pace, with no snow to get in my way and no heat to tire me, I would be where I was headed in only an hour or two.

As I ran, I tried to figure out what I would say when I found my cousins. The circumstances of our meeting were terrible, and I dreaded having to tell them that their son was dying in my house. However, at the same time, I was sort of excited to meet them. 7, I had only known briefly, and she had only said one thing to me:

"If you are so smart, you would listen to us. We're warning you: _don't_ try to come back here."

And I hadn't seen her since then. The others, I had never seen at all. I had spent my whole winter wondering about them, especially 9, the hero. In spite of everything, I felt certain that he would make a good friend.

Focusing on positive, productive things made my journey go by faster and easier than worrying. I kept thinking about what our lives would be like, once we were all reunited. I could see all our children playing and learning together over the spring and summer. With the help of his father, 3 _would_ be alive and whole, and with his twin sister—where he belonged. Together, 9, 15 and I would do manly, brotherly things. We would help each other repair our homes, take care of our tools, and look to the safety of our families. We would teach him how to prepare for winter like we did, so they would live out the next one in comfort. I thought of our wives, and how neither of them had ever had a sister. They were very different—7 was strong and sort of wild-sounding, like a lioness, and 14 was as gentle and tame as a housecat—but I got the feeling that they would become as close as friends could be, anyway.

When all this horrible mess was straightened out, everything would be beautiful.

The streets of ruined houses, lawns and cars of the suburb gradually gave way to the buildings of the downtown district. There were office buildings, where scattered papers littered the street; shops whose contents seemed to have exploded out of the huge glass windows; and apartment complexes that towered above many other buildings. People had lived that way, practically crowded into boxes on top of one another? I preferred the free, open spaces of the suburbs, myself.

I thought back, far back to when I had met 2 and 7, trying to remember what they had said about their living arrangements. 2 had done most of the talking, and he hadn't said much about it. He had mentioned townhomes, on the nicer side of the downtown district, where their creator had lived; but he had also mentioned that if I was to ever look for them, it would be pointless to search there. Mostly, I remembered him describing a church. He couldn't give me a name for it, but that didn't matter. There were only a few churches left in the city, anyway.

Still, they had both strongly advised me not to come back looking to join them. They had returned to their clan because they had to—they'd had people depending on their return. As long as I was out and free, completely in charge of my own destiny, they told me to remain that way. If I valued my freedom, it would have been stupid to try and join them. When I asked what was holding them back, they wouldn't talk about it.

"Go back to your own family, boy," he had said. "Don't be a hero; don't come back here thinking you can work some miracle and liberate us."

"But I'd like to try. I'm a pretty smart guy. I can help you!"

That was when she looked at me with an icy glare, hardened from weariness and uncertainty, and said, "If you are so smart, you would listen to us. We're warning you: _don't_ try to come back here."

And then we parted ways with little more discussion. They had also advised me to forget I ever saw them, focus on keeping myself and my own alive and safe… But I never could forget them. In fact, over all these years, I had thought of them often. I had always prayed we might meet again. I had never expected for it to actually happen.

When it was obvious that I was in the middle of Prime territory, I began hollering names into the ruins, hoping that they might be out and would hear me. 2 had spoken of a church, but 3's story was very different. The Primes were now living in a library somewhere. In fact, he said that the church had burned to the ground—the big fire we had seen in the distance last year. That was a shame. Churches had steeples that could be spotted in a skyline. Finding this library was going to be a little harder…

As I wandered around, looking for some sort of sign, I suddenly heard a sort of sputtering sound nearby. I heard feet shuffling around, each step accompanied by an explosive little noise. I began walking toward it until, all at once—

"Paystah!"

And there before me was a tiny gray Stitchpunk, the tiniest I had ever seen. He had jumped out from behind a pile of debris, a stick-sword in hand, and landed in a clumsy karate pose, his dark green cloak falling around him almost like a real warrior.

I was so surprised, I nearly fell over. I knew at once who this Stitch-pup was: this was 0, 3's little brother, the only 'punk made by other 'punks. He looked up and saw me standing there staring at him, sort of stunned. His eye lenses were the dark green glass of a soda bottle, just like 3 had said. I hadn't quite been able to picture it, no matter how many times it had been described. Now that he was here before me, I finally understood. 0 was a small work of art. I knew his parents must have been very proud of the child they had built.

Which was exactly why I knew they could help me.

0 wasn't as thrilled to see me, though. He screamed in alarm and ran back the way he had come.

"Pa! It's the Wizard of Lightening! He's _real_! He's here for revenge!"

Thoroughly confused, I started after him, calling for him to wait up. But I hadn't taken ten steps before I was halted in my tracks by an arrow whizzing in front of my face. It sunk deep into the soft ground in front of my feet; if I hadn't stopped sooner, it would have gone straight through my head. I looked up to the top of the debris pile and saw a figure looming above me, casting himself in shadow and blocking the sun. But I could clearly tell that he had a bow in hand, with an arrow set to fly, pointing straight at me. His own hood and cloak covered his head, arms and shoulders in deep red so that I could barely see his real self at all.

And that was my first impression of 9.

"Who are you?" he demanded defensively, his tone threatening to fire if I didn't speak up. But I was still so surprised that all manner of wordage completely left my brain for a moment. I partially forgot why I had even come looking for him in the first place. When I didn't answer, 9 narrowed his eyes and pulled the arrow a little tighter.

"_Who are you_?" he demanded again, louder and less patient than before. Finally, the question registered, and I willed myself to move. I raised my hands in the air, hoping that he would see that I meant no harm.

"Please," I said, "my name is 13. Yours would be 9, right?"

Something caught his attention, and he lowered his bow ever so slightly. "How do you know that?" he asked, a spark of hope in his voice. Before I could answer, someone else ran up beside him, cloaked in dark blue. Could it be, after all this time…?

"What's going on over here?" she asked him, and then looked down at me. She recognized me as well, and her face lit up.

"…13? Is that you?"

I couldn't believe how incredibly good it was to see her again. I relaxed and gave her a warm smile.

"It's been a while, 7."

She leaped down from the pile and landed gracefully beside me. "How long has it been?" she asked, shaking my hand.

"Too long," I answered. "Entirely too long."

9 jumped down and asked his wife, "You know him?"

"Not really. We only met once, years ago. I hadn't expected to see you again, 13; so much has happened, I had almost forgotten there were others out there."

"Not I. I had always hoped we'd meet again. When we heard the explosions last year, I had almost given up that hope."

"Is that what brings you all the way out here, after we specifically told you _not_ to?"

Oh yes. Now I had to tell them why I had come. I took a deep, nervous breath and said, "I have news—good and bad."

"…Really?" she asked slowly, that same spark of hopefulness in her voice. "Has something happened?"

"It's 3."

It seemed to hit them both as if a brick had been launched into their faces. Perhaps, after this long, hard winter, they had given up thinking they would ever see him again. They must have been so terrified all this time, as we had feared they might be.

"You know where he is?" 9 asked, overjoyed.

"He's been with me and the rest of my clan all this winter. We found him just before the first blizzard, and he's stayed with us ever since."

"Then he's alive? He's alright?" 7 pressed, sounding overcome enough to cry. I stilled her by laying my hand on her shoulder.

"That is the bad news…"

Their faces fell at once.

"Where is he? What happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure yet. But he's hurt, and it's bad. He's dying. He can be fixed, but it's beyond our skill. He needs you. _Now_."

Now they were as worried as I was. They exchanged a silent discussion that lasted a matter of seconds.

"7, go get them."

She nodded and obediently dashed off to gather their remaining children. 9 pulled his arrow out of the mud and stuck it back in the quiver slung over his shoulder. He then threw his hood back, revealing his whole face, at last.

"13, tell me everything that's happened."

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Author's Notes…

A short anecdote about Rhys Hilliard, upon whom 0 is based, because it completely inspired the bit about the Wizard of Lightening being real:

You know how parents have their own little stories they make up to make their bad children behave? My parents have always told my brothers and I about the Gypsies. They are more than happy to buy bad little children from fed-up parents. And they are always on the look-out for bad little children to buy, because they fully endorse child labor. If you are bad enough that mommy and daddy sell you to the Gypsies, they will make you do dishes, sweep floors, do the cat litter, and all the other chores that you hate so much.

The Gypsies come on Thursdays. You'd better behave. :P

Well, Rhys has been a rebellious little skeezix since the day he was born. He did not entirely believe in the Gypsies… though he certainly had a lot of questions about them, and incorporated them into his make-believe play for several months. Mom kept warning him that she was NOT above selling him to the Gypsies when they came, but he didn't always listen. He certainly and _mysteriously_ tended to shape up by Wednesday, though…

And then, one fateful Thursday morning, Miss Heather, the meter lady, came to read our meter. Rhys ran back to mom's room, screaming in abject terror:

"Mommy! The Gypsies are _HERE_, and it's Thursday! Don't let them get me!"

Rhys Hilliard was not bad again, ever…. At least, not for about a month.

Also, 0 is particularly afraid of lightening. XD


	19. Chapter 18: Reunited

Chapter 18: Reunited

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Before, it had been me wandering into their territory by mistake. Now it was them following me back to mine. And how quickly they followed, too. I tried to make them pace themselves like I did, as I led the Primes through the ruins; it conserved energy, and brought you where you needed to be faster. But they barely slowed down, and I found myself struggling to keep up with them. It seemed that the Primes had been built to frequently make long-distance runs. Perhaps that was the only thing that had saved them from the explosions.

Even the two children kept up remarkably. When 0 eventually tired, his father picked him up and carried him easily the rest of the way. And 4 surprised me running the entire way, almost as fast as her parents, all by herself. She was more identical to her brother than my twins were—if it weren't for the number on her chest, I wouldn't have been able to tell them apart. She was silent for the journey, though, seemingly unable to speak in any form. She struck me a strong and sturdy child, but mostly on the inside, her head more of an asset than the shoulders it sat upon.

Yet she ran without tiring, back to the lost twin who needed her so much. Their eagerness to get to him was so inspiring. It gave me what I needed to keep up with them. In less time than it had taken me to find them, we had returned to the suburbs, and we were on my street again. I brought them to the tunnel entrance that led underground, into the burrow, and started down it at once; they followed me down without hesitation.

I prayed with all my might that we weren't too late…

"14, I'm back!" I called out as I burst into the light, finding everyone gathered nervously in the den. "I'm back, and found them—"

Before I could finish speaking, 9 brushed past me into the space and demanded frantically, "Where is my son? Where is he?"

"He's here," 14 directed, pointing him and 7 to the sofa where their child still lay unconscious, covered with a light blanket, breathing slower than he had been when I'd left. While they ran up beside him, I looked around and spotted 11 in the far corner, watching everything very warily. It was clear that she didn't like them being there. But seeing her, now that I knew all the things she had done, I felt so exceptionally furious that I couldn't look directly at her.

9 pulled the blanket back and began to assess all the things he had to fix. The rips didn't worry him much; but when they saw what had been done to 3's wiring, he and his wife both gasped in shock.

"How did this happen?" 7 cried, turning to me for an explanation.

"I think we're still figuring the rest of that out," I replied, glaring back at 11. She glared back with no remorse of any kind in her eyes.

"I had to do _something_," she insisted sullenly, commanding everyone's attention. "If this had gone on any longer, you would have done something you could never have taken back, father. I may have saved you!"

I stormed up to her, infuriated that she would dare speak such things, especially in front of 3's own parents.

"You have no place speaking here!" I thundered at her. "And you haven't saved anyone from anything—all you've done was try to destroy someone else's child! We hadn't even decided if he was staying or not! How dare you think yourself a hero!"

"You never see it, do you?" she snapped back. "You never see how _weak_ they make you! You never see what _I_ want or need, because they're so much more important than me, aren't they? _Aren't they_?"

"Your wants and needs don't matter, if the only one you have is for all other children in the world to be dead. 3 and 10, they were only little ones! They were smaller and weaker than you! They depended on you for guidance and shelter, and you tried to kill them! 10 is dead because of you, isn't she? Tell me the truth!"

"You should thank me! It had never been more peaceful than after she was gone. She was small and loud and stupid, and she couldn't do anything on her own! I freed you!"

Before I could scream at her again, I felt someone move beside me. It was 7, looking down at 11 with disgust and furry in her eyes.

"_You_ did this?" she demanded quietly. "You did this to my baby? What is wrong with you!"

7 appeared to be caught between a righteous level of self-control and a sudden deal of shock; because she looked ready to leap at 11's throat and strangle her to death, but she stood still. She stood still and firm, though she shook from nerves and rage. 11 was instantly terrified and backed away, as close against the wall as she could get.

"I can go away, now," 11 eagerly insisted, moving to stand and leave—anything to get away from the furious lioness towering over her. But I stomped my foot down in front of her, blocking her, and making her jump.

"Not this time, you're not. Last time, you ran off and hid from us, so you wouldn't have to watch the fallout of what you did. You didn't see how we mourned for your sister. You couldn't stand feeling sorry for taking her, could you? But not this time! You are going to sit right here, and you are going to watch this—you _will_ taste the consequences this time! By all the powers in the universe, you _will_ be sorry for what you've done today!"

11 cowered from me, deeper and deeper into the corner like a threatened animal. Which was more frightening to her, being yelled at, or having to face the music she had wrought? Whatever the reason, she was staying put for a good long time.

It was suddenly very quiet. The only sounds I heard were my heavy breathing and 12 sobbing softly into his mother's shoulder, heartbroken.

"You have done this, 11," I concluded. "You, and you alone."

I couldn't stand looking at her any longer, and turned away on my heel; 7 turned away with me, returning to her husband's side. I went to my own dismal 14 and heartbroken 12, both in deep, painful need of comfort, and enfolded them in my arms. From the other side of the room, the Primes regarded us carefully and nervously, unsure of what had just happened, exactly.

But it was over now. 9 turned back to his son and examined him for a long minute. I could see the gears in his head turning, drawing on all he knew of their designs to fix what had been done. After a moment of deliberation, he looked over by the entrance, where 4 and 0 stood together out of the way.

"Sweetie, you carry spare parts with you in your pocketbook, don't you?"

She slowly, wordlessly nodded. He held out his hand to her.

"Bring them here. Let me see."

In a rapid, fluid series of movements that I hadn't expected, she skittered over to him with the flitting grace of a moth, unslinging her pack from over her shoulder. She dumped its contents on the floor and, together, she and her father began pouring through the mess of findings that spilled out.

While 4 and 9 went through the pile, picking out the parts they decided would work best, I noticed that 12 had suddenly stopped crying. He had looked up to see what they were doing, and he now looked, dare I say it, a bit star-struck. And his eyes were trained on 4, following her every quicksilver movement.

"Wow…" he whispered, wide-eyed, unable to look away.

I had no idea where this had come from. But, in light of all that had happened today, it warmed my heart and made me smile a little. My boy had a crush! Go figure.

The Primes quickly finished with the pile on the floor, and 9 gathered what they had found in his hands, looking them over carefully. He looked back up and gave his daughter a thankful smile.

"These are perfect. Thank you."

"…_What else?"_ she asked, flickering just like her twin. I had supposed she would, if she ever managed to speak.

"Don't worry about anything," he answered. "I'll take care of everything else. Your brother will be fine, I promise."

"_Really? There's still enough time?"_

"Plenty, if I work quickly. You just keep 0 busy for a while; don't let him worry, either."

A great idea occurred to me. I looked down at 12 and suggested, "Show them where 10's old toys are. I'm sure they'll keep the little one entertained, while his father works."

"Oh! Uh, okay," he stammered nervously, slipping out of our embrace. He walked right up to 4 and 0, eager to speak to them; but when he reached them and they saw him, he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Um… Hi, I'm 12," he said slowly, still stammering a little.

She looked back at him with a fretful expression and answered plainly, _"I'm 4, and this is my little brother, 0."_

"Hi!" 0 chirped, smiling and waving.

12 smiled and reached down to pat him on the head. "He's cute. Hey, I know where there are some things he can play with, if he wants to."

0 nodded his head. "Yeah, I like to play!"

"Follow me, then," he answered, offering his hand. 4 hesitated… But she took his hand with a tiny, grateful smile. He grinned and led them away, down the tunnel that led to 10's old room.

This seemed the beginning of a lovely friendship. I couldn't wait to see where it would go.

On the edge of the sofa, 9 sat with the first few pieces in hand, looking daunted and a little lost. Seeing his distress, 7 gently laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked quietly.

"Just tell me that I can do this," he answered. "Tell me that I can still save our son."

She reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek. "You can save our son; I _know_ you can. I believe in you."

The look on his face… He suddenly reminded me so much of myself. With his beloved's faith in mind, I was certain he could have done any number of impossible things. Fixing 3 would be the least of his abilities.

"You need your space, huh?" she guessed.

"I would appreciate it; but if you feel you should stay, I won't ask you to leave."

"No, it's alright. You work better when I'm not hovering over you. I'll find something to do."

While they discussed this out loud, 14 and I exchanged a silent conversation of our own. I nodded my head toward 7, suggesting to my wife, _engage her. Take her for a walk. Talk to her. Tell her she's not alone._

_What am I supposed to say to her? My daughter nearly killed her son! How can I even dare to look at her?_ She protested with a nervous, quizzical look.

_Just try it,_ I insisted, looking deeply, calmly into her eyes. She looked back into mine, and she could see that I was serious.

…_Alright, I will try,_ she agreed, nodding her head. She stepped away, brushing the long ribbons of her hair off her shoulders. She gave 7 a warm smile and held out her hand.

"Come on," she said sweetly. "Let's take a walk, just us girls."

7 nodded tiredly, and let 14 help her to her feet. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

As I watched them head back outside, it dawned on me out of the blue—like some of my better ideas, it felt like a rock had plummeted down from the sky and hit me over the head. Seven twice _is_ fourteen, and we Dekas were the second series of 'punks. How come I had never realized this, until I had seen them both side by side?

Now 15 and I were alone with 9. He had already begun to work, assured that the rest of his family would be alright while he was busy.

"Is there anything you need from us?" I asked. "Tools, wires, anything?"

He paused and thought for a moment. "…I could use a pair of pliers and a wrench."

"12 has both," I agreed. "I'll get them."

As I walked off down the hallway, 15 moved a little closer to the sofa to watch the operation.

"Show me how to do this," he was saying. "I feel awful for not knowing, but me mind doesn't work quite like this."

"It's simple. Just watch…"

Thank goodness, we were all getting along. I headed straight to the twin's room; 12's side of it was cluttered with tools and findings that the rest of us couldn't make heads or tails of. But his tools were arranged neatly, hanging from pegs on the wall, and I found what I was looking for quickly. I still found myself tripping over strings of Christmas lights and lengths of copper wire, left lying on the floor, half-way turned into something.

_How does he operate in such a mess?_ I wondered as I headed back. On the way, I stopped short of the entrance to 10's room, where 3 had spent the winter, and peered inside. The other children were all sitting on the floor, going through the things in the toy chest. 0 was already engaged with the toy ark and its many animals—I hadn't realized that lions could fly, until he jumped up and zoomed with it across the room as if it were a bird.

I was glad that someone was playing with the set again. 10 had begged me for weeks for toy animals to play with. I had spent an equally long time crafting the whole thing, but it had been worth it. She had loved that ark. Of all the toys she collected, it had been her favorite. Though it tugged painfully on my heart to think about, it was beautiful to see the littlest Prime playing with it, now.

"You and 3 aren't big on playing with toys, huh?" 12 guessed.

"_Not really. We prefer books, most of the time. With so many of them around us at home, I don't know… Playing seemed like a waste of time,"_ 4 answered, sweetly straightening the hair on one of the dolls.

"You guys really went through something, way back then."

"_Yeah, I suppose we did. Learning about the world around us has always meant a lot to us; but there was a time when we were forced to not ask questions at all. For my twin and I, that was very painful. 12… You remind me of someone."_

"Really? Who?"

"_I'm not sure yet. Oh, it'll probably come to me in my sleep. You just seem so familiar to me."_

"Big sis!" 0 interrupted. "These animals are so much better than ours! Do you think we can keep them?"

I was glad they weren't worried anymore. With the tools in hand, I returned to the den.

An hour or two passed in relative tenseness. 9 said that the damage his son had sustained was severe, and that he had gotten there just in time to fix it. If we had been a little later, 3 might have been beyond all hope. However, between his skilled hands and his daughter being clever enough to carry her own spare parts around wherever she went, he stabilized the child quickly. It had been a dangerously close call, but he would live.

"Physically, they're as identical on the inside as they are on the outside," 9 explained as he stitched the rips back together. "But their souls are very different, sometimes. Has 3 been… good, while he's been here?"

"He's been nothing short of perfect," I answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… We'd had a few problems when he left."

"So we heard. He took a good deal of time telling us what exactly brought him so far north in the first place," 15 commented. "Though we all got the feeling that he edited his tale a bit. He admitted that he had run away, but he never told us the why's of it."

9 shrugged sadly. "I don't really blame him."

"Why ever he ran, he was certain that you wouldn't be looking for, or that you'd want him back," I added.

9 looked crestfallen. "He said that?"

"He's been convinced of it. Though he spent the whole winter wishing it weren't true. He has missed you all terribly, and he wanted very badly to return to you, but he was afraid."

"…Once again, I suppose I can't blame him."

15 shook his head. "It seems that he's been wrong about you all this whole time. What could he have done, to make him think such things about his own family?"

9 glanced warily at 11. "It's a little difficult to explain. 11… did something to one of your children, didn't she?"

I looked away from him, feeling like a stupid, foolish idiot. He took my silence for agreement, and sighed heavily.

"3 did something to one of _my_ children," he said slowly. "It was like some terrible monster had taken him over. He wasn't my son anymore; he became this angry, destructive thing that I didn't know, and I didn't want it near my family. But I've missed my son so much… I didn't think I would ever see him again."

That was startling to hear, especially given my revelations about 11. I had a feeling that I would hear more of the story later. I had spent a lot of time wondering what had been on 3's mind all this time. It had always seemed that there had been a great weight of guilt on his shoulders, something that he couldn't talk about to anyone. But I had never imagined that it had been anything so serious.

It was good that his father was here to take care of him, to tell him that he had been wrong, that his family still loved him dearly. But it also made my spirits sink. There was no way I could keep him anymore. Surely, 14 realized this as well. I wondered if she and 7 were discussing the same thing, wherever they had gone.

"It's not your fault this happened, 13," he said. "Maybe, if it hadn't, I wouldn't have found him again for a very long time. He would have spent all that time thinking we didn't love him, and we would have spent all that time thinking he was dead. And we have. We've really spent the entire winter thinking that he had frozen to death somewhere. Thank you, for looking after him."

I gave him a smile, feeling that my efforts hadn't been all in vain, after all. "Will he wake soon?"

"All the damage to his wiring is repaired; but his body still needs rest. He should wake by morning."

"I suppose you Primes will be on your home tomorrow, then."

He gave me a quizzical smile. "You want us gone that badly?"

"Not at all! Your clan can stay with us for as long as you'd like. Truly, I had hoped we would meet. I only wish the circumstances were more pleasant."

"Well, even when 3 wakes up, he'll still be very weak. I'm not sure when he'll be able to travel home. We may end up staying for a while…"

"We have no quarrel with that," 15 answered. "Do what you must, for your son. My brother and sister rather came to love the boy like a son of their own."

"He's a lovable boy," 9 agreed, stroking his son's face. "I just hope the monster's left him."

"If there is a monster in any of us, it's in that one over there," I said petulantly, nodding at 11. "9… There have been a lot of problems in my own family, and I failed to deal with them properly. If I had just opened my eyes and listened better… I put your child in danger, and he was nearly killed because of something I should have prevented in the first place. For that, I am sincerely sorry."

"We've all made terrible mistakes, 13. It's part of being human. Our mistakes don't define who we are. What defines us is how and when we chose to face them."

"That is very insightful."

"It's good advice," he agreed, gently rubbing his shoulder. "I wish the man who said it was still here. As it is, he isn't here because of mistakes I've made. Owning that never gets easier, and maybe it shouldn't."

15 laughed shortly. "A pair of tortured, guilty souls. It is as if you were made to be brothers."

"Surely, it's no coincidence," 9 added with a smirk. "Perhaps, we were all meant to be a family. I've only known you for this afternoon… But I feel connected to you, somehow."

"Then we should _be_ a family, the ten of us together," I said decidedly. "We feel connected to you, as well."

9 nodded his head. "I'm glad we finally found each other… brothers."

"And we're glad we found you, brother."

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Author's Notes…

Not too happy with this ending. Blah…

Back to 3's POV next chapter. Also, this thing with 12 and 4 is about to get VERY cute, indeed. ;)


	20. Chapter 19: Forgiveness

Chapter 19: Forgiveness

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Once again, I had been so sure that I wasn't going to wake up. But I knew that I hadn't died yet, because I could feel myself dreaming deeply, and I was still vaguely self-aware. As I lay in a coma, waiting for death to finally overcome me, the only thing that flooded my mind was images of my family. I saw them clearly, as I remembered them. I saw mama and papa holding hands as they explored the ruins, their free hands filled with weapons they might never need to use again. I saw my sister reading, cataloguing, keeping the study as much in order as a little girl could manage by herself.

And I saw a lot of 0, my missed, wasted opportunity to be a good brother. He was always in one of his costumes—mostly the samurai, ready to fend off monsters of darkness like me—and he always surrounded himself with his sound effects. He was happy, and sturdy, and loud, like a little boy should be.

But I was never a part of those dreams. It was like watching one of 4's film clips, where I stood apart, watching everything happening, but I couldn't interact with them. They didn't seem to see me, either, and they never mentioned or even thought of me. It was as if I had never even existed to them. In the part of my mind that was still conscious, it was frustrating and disheartening. They seemed so close—it seemed like I could reach out and touch them, talk to them, hold them. But I knew that they were far away from me. I knew that I would never see them again.

Then, to my surprise, the dreams became fuzzy, fading away, and I felt myself waking. I heard someone calling my name. It didn't sound distant, either; it was nearby. Right next to me.

"3? 3! He's waking up!"

And the voice was instantly familiar. Could it be? No, it was impossible… wasn't it? I slowly opened my eyes, and my heart leaped for joy at who I saw smiling down at me.

"…_Papa?"_

He sighed a great sigh of relief, and gently stroked my cheek. "Oh, thank the stars! You had us scared for a while, there."

It was so impossibly good to see and hear and feel my father again. I was so glad that I didn't have room in my mind for how guilty I had felt for so long. I had no idea how he had gotten here, or why he had bothered to come, but I didn't care. I tried to sit up, but my chest began to throb painfully and I fell back. Overwhelmed by emotion and pain, I began to cry a little.

Papa carefully picked me up and held me close, slowly rocking me back and forth. It felt so safe. He had always made me feel safe; I hadn't realized how much that meant to me until I had left it behind. It was so soothing, and such a relief, and it made me cry harder. I had been so stupid…

"Hush, hush, don't cry," he whispered, sounding close to tears, himself. "It's alright now, it's alright. I'm here, I've got you. It's over. You're safe."

He suddenly pulled away and stared at me hard, shaking me by the shoulders.

"Don't you _ever_ run away from us again" he demanded. "Do you have any idea what we've been through? We thought you were dead! I didn't think I'd ever see you again!"

He pulled me back, snuggling me closer than before.

"I thought I'd lost you, son. I thought I'd lost you…"

I was stunned. After all I had done, he had been worried about me? I should have known better than to doubt him, of all people. For a moment, I relaxed completely against him and just let him hold me tight, safe and sound.

"At last, that nightmare is over," said another familiar voice. I looked up at once, and 15 was the first person I saw, grinning at me. 13 stood a little way off, in the doorway that led outside; he was also smiling, but seemed reluctant to join us. I wondered why.

"_15, you found him?"_

"Not I, laddie. T'was 13 who did the finding," he answered, nodding toward his brother. Forced into attention, 13 walked to stand beside us.

"That was really something for us all, wasn't it?" he said quietly, his smile a little grim. The last few minutes I remembered before passing out flew back through my mind, and I grabbed him by the hand.

"_It was 11!"_ I exclaimed, hoping they would believe me. _"She attacked me! She—"_

"I know," 13 interrupted, kneeling before the sofa, "I know. And that has been dealt with. She'll not hurt anyone else again."

He looked me right in the eye, his own disheartened, tired, and unendingly apologetic.

"3… Forgive me. My blindness put you in terrible danger. I didn't protect you like I should have, and all of this happened. I am _so_ sorry."

"_It wasn't your fault, 13. I had it coming, I think. Maybe this was the only way to make me wake up."_

15 laughed shortly. "It seems this whole ordeal has been a tragedy of errors," he commented. "Each person blaming himself, seeing only how everything happened because of something _he_ did or didn't do, unable to see the bigger picture. Unable to share the pain of responsibility. The blame never truly rested on any one of us—not even on 11. All of us are to answer in some way."

That was a heavy but comforting thought. None of us had to endure the pain of being at fault alone. For a long, terrible moment, we had all been failures. The four of us paused for a moment to let that sink in. Then papa sighed and sat back a little so he could see me.

"Aside from everything that's happened, how are you feeling, son?"

It was so great to be someone's son again. I couldn't help but smile.

"_I guess I feel pretty sore, where I was stabbed."_

"There was a lot of damage to be fixed," papa agreed, nodding slowly. "It was fairly easy, but you slept longer than we expected. You should have seen 0—he was terrified you would never wake up."

My heart leaped again. _"0's here?"_

He smiled. "We all came."

"_Where are they? I have to see them! I have to say I'm sorry..."_

"They'll be back. They left a little while ago, just to walk around for a bit. You know how your mother is."

I couldn't believe I would really see my mother again. Or my sister or brother. But…

"_Will they speak to me? Do they even want to be here?"_

"Of course they do."

"_Do __you__ even want to be here?"_

The question startled him, and he didn't answer. His face seemed to say, how could you think something like that? I sighed sadly, ready to explain myself and everything I had grappled with all winter.

"_I was so horrible to everyone when I left. I let something ugly and unnatural take me over, and I couldn't control it. After everything I did, I thought for sure you wouldn't want me back. You deserve so much better than me. All I've wanted is for you to hear me say that I'm sorry, and I would go away and never bother you again. Just __please__ forgive me."_

Papa regarded me for a long moment, as if he wasn't sure what to make of me. He gently ran his hand over my face and my head, and I realized—I wasn't wearing my hood. I was open and revealed, without my usual shell to hide inside. He pulled me back and held me again, making himself a shell for me. Nothing could harm me now.

"Of course we forgive you," he whispered, a breath away from tears. "And I am _never_ letting you out of my sight again."

It was amazing and unexpected. But I believed him at once.

Then, as if on cue, we heard movement and voices in the entrance tunnel, one in particular ringing louder and clearer than the others:

"Ma? Ma! Ma, do you think big brover's awake yet?"

"I'm sure I don't know, 0. Your father said sometime today."

"I'll bet he woke up while we were gone, huh? He'll sure be happy to see us again!"

And I was. 0 careened into the light first—with a much-practiced martial arts leap and a solid landing, paired with an explosive noise. He looked right up toward me, hoping…

His big green eyes went wide, and he grinned brightly.

"He _is_ awake, ma! I toldja he was awake!"

Mama and 14—my two mothers—walked into sight right behind him. 14 was a familiar and welcome sight. But to see my mama, the one who had raised me, who I hadn't seen in so long… When I saw her face at long last, I suddenly realized how much I had really missed her. As soon as she saw me, she broke into overjoyed laughter and practically flew across the room to me. She snatched me away from papa and held me so close I could barely breathe, not caring that she was crying in front of all humanity.

"I thought you were gone!" she exclaimed between sobs, rocking us both. "I thought you were with them!"

By all accounts, I should have been with the lost, not safe in my mother's embrace. I hardly had time to process that before a sudden weight landed on me. 0 had jumped in my lap, his shoulder jamming right into the spot where I had been stabbed. The sharp pain flooded my whole body and made my head spin, but I sort of didn't mind it. He really deserved a chance to hit me back, after what I had done to him.

But instead of hitting me again, like I had half-expected him to and wouldn't have blamed him for, he was hugging me.

"I knew you were alive, big brover! I just _knew _it! We just had to find you first—and we did!"

That was the inside of enough for me. I wriggled out of mama's arms and hugged my brother back. I couldn't help crying again. I was a little surprised that he hadn't started crying, himself.

"_Oh, 0, this was all __my__ fault!"_ I wailed, ignoring the tremendous pain ebbing through my body. _"All of this was my fault, and I'm __so__ sorry! I'm a terrible brother!"_

"No, you're not," he answered plainly, amazingly calm. "That wasn't you that wanted me dead, that was the bad ol' you. But that guy isn't coming back. I dunno what he was, but he sure wasn't _my_ big brover. But I sure did miss you. We all did."

"_I'm so sorry, 0," _I sniffled. _"I'm sorry I let him come back to hurt you again. I'm sorry for everything…"_

He smiled and snuggled closer. "I forgive you," he answered brightly.

Hearing him forgive me felt the most amazing of all the things I had felt so far. That was what I had wanted most of all; thinking all along that I would never get it had hurt more than anything I could have imagined. And he seemed to feel exactly the same.

I looked up a little, scanning the room for the one member of my family I hadn't seen yet. And I finally spotted her, hovering in the entrance way with 12. Of all of them, she was the only one who seemed angry with me at all—and I honestly couldn't blame her for a second. Instead, she stood a little behind 12, the way she used to stand behind me like a shield, unsure of whether or not she really wanted to speak to me.

And she held 12's hand affectionately in her own. That was unusual, but I instantly liked what it seemed to mean. I sure had missed a lot…

"…_Hi, 4,"_ I said at last.

She glared at me and turned away, crossing her arms indignantly across her chest.

"_I can't believe what you did to us!"_ she fumed. _"I have a good mind to never look at you again!"_

"_4, please. I'm sorry…"_

She turned to look at me over her shoulder, and her expression softened a little. She sighed and walked toward me, pushing her own hood off her head—nothing hidden, everything revealed.

"_Oh, 3. I can't stay mad you. I would hug you, but you're covered in everyone else."_

At that, 0 hopped right up and said, "Here, big sis, you can have my spot, for a minute. But I need it back."

She closed the space between us before 0 finished speaking. Still standing in front of me, she threw her arms around my head and shoulder and held me against her chest.

"_I was so worried about you. If you ever run away again, I'm gonna come after you like a hawk, and I won't stop until I find you and drag you home."_

"_You don't have worry about that anymore, sis. I'm not leaving again."_

"_Don't promise that this time."_

No way could I hope for her trust—maybe she would never trust me again. But at least my sister was talking to me. Again, I looked up and peered over her shoulder. The Dekas had all fallen silent. I didn't see 11 anywhere, but the other four of them stood together away from the rest of us, giving us our space.

And, though they were just as thrilled to see me awake, 13 and 14 looked impossibly disheartened. Any hope of adopting me was completely out of reach now. 12 looked worried, as well—I'd probably be leaving soon, he supposed… and so would my sister. Even 15, who tried not to let his emotions show on his face, looked concerned.

"_Mama, papa, we're not leaving __today__, are we?"_ I asked.

"Today?" Papa answered incredulously. "You can barely sit up on your own. It's not a difficult trip, but you're in no shape to travel across this room. We're not going anywhere for at least another several days."

Relief came over me, and I glanced across the room. My head still reeling a little, the opposite wall of the den suddenly did seem unusually far away. Several days, at least, huh? Everyone else seemed to feel better about this. As it was, they were all getting along excellently, like I had I had known they would.

No, I hadn't missed that much action while I had been out. 13 had left for a few hours, and come back with my family. After that, papa had set to fixing me, and everything had been relatively quiet. I had apparently missed a fight between 13 and 11—4 said that if I had been awake to hear it, it would have sounded eerily familiar.

"_Some of these people are so darned familiar, somehow,"_ she commented later. She sat beside me on the sofa while I rested, and we just talked for a while. I could tell there was something about the Dekas that caught her off guard, even though she really liked them all. But she couldn't tell what it was, and it frustrated her. I had sort of grappled with the same feeling, myself.

"_I know how you feel," _I agreed. _"Sometimes, it was like I never left home. Yesterday, when 11 attacked me… It was like __some__ people never died."_

"_3, what do you think of 12? Doesn't he just remind you of someone __so__ clearly?"_

"_He does. He has a very bold, strong presence; he likes to be a defender."_

I wanted to hear more about what _she_ thought of him, but I didn't want to get into that too suddenly. It was a miracle that she was sitting so close to me. I was terrified of offending her. I had never felt so insecure, even though she had forgiven me.

"_Yeah, he's a sweet guy,"_ she added with a goofy smile. _"He really helped me look after 0 when we got here. He's been a good friend to you, hasn't he?"_

"_He's been like a big brother to me. I shouldn't have run away from you—I'll regret it for the rest of my life. But I'm really glad that I found 12.'_

"_I'm glad I found him, as well."_

"_Huh?"_

She shrugged vaguely. _"Oh, never mind. When we leave, I don't know if I'll ever see him again…"_

"_Soon, probably. Have you seen how well mama and papa are getting along with the others? I'll bet we'll all stay in pretty close contact."_

"_Oh! Thank goodness."_

I couldn't help myself anymore.

"_You really like him, don't you?"_

"_Um…"_ She sighed and giggled. _"Yeah. I think he likes me back."_

It was so touching, thinking of my sister and my best friend together. It suddenly dawned on me, maybe this was how 5 had felt, watching mama and papa fall in love. 4 leaned back a little and gazed off into space.

"_I finally figured out why I like him so much. Who he reminds me of so much."_

"_Who's that, sis?"_

She looked back at me and grinned. _"2. He is __so__ much like 2, it's a little crazy."_

Oh wow. She was totally right. How come I hadn't seen it first? It was perfect.

"_Hey, 4, what happened to 11? I haven't seen her around since I woke up."_

She gave me a quizzical look. _"She tried to kill you, and you're looking for her? Maybe __you're__ a little crazy." _

"_I dunno, I was just wondering. 13 said he took care of everything, but I don't know what he means."_

"_It was weird. He made her sit in the corner and watch your whole operation. She was angry with everyone. She seriously doesn't like us being here."_

"_She's jealous of everyone. She successfully killed her own sister, you know."_

4 shivered. _"So I heard. Apparently, she hid from everyone else, so she wouldn't have to see how hurt they were, so she wouldn't feel bad about what she did. But 13 didn't let her do that this time."_

"_You know who 11 is like? She's like 1."_

"…_I guess that makes sense, then…"_

"_So where is she now?"_

"_Last night, she suddenly started crying terribly. Like, so hard, she could barely speak, or do anything. She just sat in the corner, bawling like a baby, rocking herself back and forth. Then 13 finally let her go back to her room, and we haven't seen her since."_

"_11? 11 was crying? I didn't think that was possible. I wonder…"_

"_Feh. You shouldn't worry about her, 3. She got what she deserved."_

"_Maybe we both did."_

"_What's that's supposed to mean? You can't think she's changed just like that, over night?"_ 4 insisted, snapping her fingers.

"_I sure did. It happened in less than a night for me. More like in a matter of minutes."_

"_I don't know if that's possible. She's been pretty terrible for a really long time. Practically since she was born, I hear."_

"_1 was pretty bad. And he changed in a matter of minutes. We watched it with our own eyes. It __is__ possible. And if she did change… That means she's in a lot of pain right now, and no one can understand it. No one else knows how that feels. No one but me."_

"_You feel bad for her? After all that she's done to you? And everyone else?"_

I was a little surprised, myself, but…

"…_Yeah. Yeah, I do. I feel really bad for her. I need to talk to her. Soon."_

4 sighed again, and patted my head. _"You're so weird. I've missed your weirdness."_

I had never thought of myself as weird. But yeah, I supposed I was, sometimes. I could never help being a dreamer—it's who I am, who I always was, and who I guess I always will be. But if the worst of my weirdness comes by being compassionate toward tortured, misguided souls, then I guess I'm well off.

My next course of action was clear. Even if it was still a little dangerous, I had to talk to of all, I had to forgive her.

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Author's Notes…

Oh hi, y'all. I'm still alive. :P

It has taken me two weeks to update for a few reasons:

1. This school term's work load is insane.

2. My current work schedule is also kind of insane.

3. For some reason, this chapter simply WOULD NOT COOPERATE! MORE INSANITAY! Inspiration came slow, I hate writing sticky-sweet sentimental stuff, and the barrage of newly-suggested fics—to read _and_ write—hasn't ended since I sat down to try and write this chapter. I swear, when this epic is done, I will go back and read ALL the 9-fics and web-comics that I have been recommended. They all sound good, and I can't wait to tuck into them all! :D

Hopefully, next chapter will come together much more smoothly. We are in the home-stretch, peeps…! 8D


	21. Chapter 20: The Minotaur

Chapter 20: The Minotaur

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A few days passed as I regained my strength; but it sometimes seemed much longer to me, as I sat in bed, barely allowed to move. But it wasn't all bad. There wasn't a moment that someone wasn't with me, so I was never bored or lonely for long. My family would sit with me for hours and we'd all just talk about things. They wanted to know every detail of my adventure, and I wanted to know everything about how they had been.

We also talked a lot about the future. Spring was back, for sure; outside, the world was bursting into green. Papa had been talking a lot with 13 and 15, and they had decided something terrific. When we went home, the Dekas would be coming with us. Not forever, but for a pretty long time—maybe until fall came again. Everyone agreed: the Primes were under-equipped to deal with the harshness that winter was, and we needed help from experts. After explaining the condition of the library, 13 was a little surprised my family had survived.

0 didn't fully understand why it was so great, but 4 and I were extremely happy about this. It meant that we'd get to keep 12 around. Part of me was just thrilled to keep watching the two of them together. They were so cute! I wished more than ever that 5 was still alive. He had known exactly what it was like, being the brother in the middle of an unexpected romance. It felt awkward and a little lonely, being that clumsy third wheel. But at the same time, seeing them so happy made me feel great.

But I never once saw 11 anywhere. In fact, she had locked herself away so thoroughly that she hadn't allowed her brother in their room for days. Even 13, who was still furious with her, had to be a little concerned. It was frustrating for me, because I felt so full of conviction. I found myself wanting very badly to forgive her. But she never presented herself. When I asked if someone would bring her, they all refused.

"_What if she doesn't even want to be forgiven?"_ my sister asked.

"_Then that would be very sad; but it wouldn't stop me. It never stopped any of you, and it's not going to stop me."_

All this went on for about a week. At last, papa allowed me to get up and walk around a little. I hadn't thought of how wobbly I would be after an operation and a week stuck in bed. But I found my feet again quickly. My chest was still pretty sore, but it grew less and less so after a few days. Papa was impressed. He said that my recovery was coming along faster than he had expected, after a near-death experience.

One evening a few days later, 12 and I were playing in the den with 0 and the toy ark—which 13 had allowed him to keep. But night fell, and mama took him off to bed.

"Don't stay up too much later," she advised me. "You still need to rest."

"_I won't,_" I agreed. How could I say no to her, now? She smiled, reassured, and walked off with 0 falling asleep in her arms. It was the first time in a while that seeing them so close didn't make me burn up with jealousy. It felt great.

I peered down the dark tunnel that led back to our rooms. 11 was back there somewhere, and I knew that she was hurting inside. I had to do something about that. But the pitch blackness of the tunnel was annoyingly ominous. As confident as I was… There could still be a vicious monster hiding in the shadows.

12 saw me looking down the tunnel and said, "Whoa there, Theseus. You're in no shape to go chasing the minotaur."

It was as if he had read my thoughts. I could appreciate him referencing my favorite Greek myth, even calling me by the name of the hero. But I shook my head and slowly stood up.

"_I need to face it sometime,"_ I insisted. _"It just feels like sometime is here."_

"…Do you want me to go with you? Keep an eye out? Run for help, if there's trouble? You can't exactly make a quick getaway right now."

"_No, 12. This is something I have to do myself."_

He didn't like it, but he sighed. "I guess that's true. But I'm still going to stand watch. I'll be close by, okay?"

Just in case, I agreed that it would be wise to have him close by. Even Theseus hadn't been completely alone in the minotaur's lair. We walked down the tunnel together, into the shadow. It did, indeed, feel like I was marching down the dark corridors of the labyrinth, hunting down a deadly beast. It could be lurking behind any corner, waiting to pounce while I was vulnerable. But I steeled myself and faced it. I had to be like Theseus, bravely facing the dangerous task that was my destiny.

And we arrived at the twin's room without incident. It was very quiet, and I was suddenly very nervous to leave 12's company. But I had to do this. I carefully stepped into their room, wondering what I would find.

Within, the lights were on and I could see everything plainly. The mess that usually dominated 12's side of the room had been cleaned up, wires and cords hung up on the wall or piled neatly on his work table. He certainly hadn't done that. On one of the two beds, I found the minotaur—or what seemed left of her, anyway. 11 was lying on her back, staring listlessly at the ceiling. When she heard me come in, she sighed sadly.

"I'm not coming out, 12. I can't bear to look at any of them. I simply can't."

"_Actually," _ I answered, throwing my hood back, leaving nothing hidden, _"it's me."_

She suddenly sat up straight, completely surprised. "You? Of all people? Have you gone mad?"

"_Maybe I have. But that's not important. I need to talk to you, 11."_

"About what?" she demanded defensively. "If you've come for an apology, you're not getting one."

"_I just wanted to say… I know how you feel."_

"How could you know anything about how I feel? You don't know anything I've been through!"

"_I do, a little. I know what it's like to hate a brother or sister. I know what it's like to want them dead. And I know what it's like to try to kill them. I tried, and I almost succeeded, once."_

She gave a weird, quizzical look. "_You_ tried to kill someone?" she asked incredulously.

"_That's why I ran away."_

She studied me for a moment.

"…I've misjudged you. You're a cold-hearted killer, just like me. It's nice to not be alone, I suppose."

"_No, I'm not. I thought I was, once, but I'm not a bad person. It's like a monster, you know? Living inside you, taking you over, making you into something you're not. Right?"_

Something struck in her eyes, like she finally understood, and she relaxed a little.

"It is," she said quietly. "I never thought of it like that. It's just always been there. Sometimes I would wonder if I could be different, if I could be better… But every time I thought of it, the monster said no. It told me, this was all I could be. All I needed to be."

"_That if everyone else is so distracted by the little one, you'll just have to take care of yourself."_

"You have to save them from their own blindness. As long as they can't see, it's all up to you."

"_You're the only one who's __not__ crazy."_

"You don't have to deal with this silliness, if you don't want to. Be strong, and take matters into your own hands."

"_Be strong, save them from themselves—"_

"—and get rid of her."

"_Or him."_

"So you heard it, too?"

"_Yeah. Twice, before. Exactly like that."_

"Wow. I guess you do understand." She hugged her knees to her chest and stared off into space. "I had never thought of it as a monster before… I don't think I even knew it was there at all. Now that I've found it in me, looked at it, seen what it's done to me all my life… I don't know what to do with myself."

"_Do you feel empty?"_

"Yeah, empty. And now, I'm just… I hate myself. I've done terrible things to everyone I've ever known or loved, and I didn't care. How am I supposed to live with myself now?"

"_No,"_ I answered, coming a little closer, _"you didn't do any of those things yourself. Something else was controlling you. Something you weren't aware of to fight against."_

"That doesn't make any of it right," she countered miserably, her face falling upon her knees.

"_I know it doesn't. It never gets easier, having to live with yourself when you've caused so much pain and trouble. But it gives you hope—you didn't do this on your own. Now that you've seen that, you have the power to change it. If you go to them, and you ask them forgiveness and for help, they'll give it to you."_

"I can barely look at my own stupid, useless waste of skin. How am I supposed to face my mother and father? _How_ am I supposed to do that?"

"_That's not easy, either,"_ I answered, easing down on the bed beside her. I even felt bold enough to reach out and lay my hand on her shoulder. She recoiled, completely shocked that I would _want_ to touch her… But she relaxed, comforted by the sudden contact in spite of everything. No one had seen or spoken to her in almost two weeks. I couldn't imagine how lonely she must feel… And then I remembered my month in the study, trapped alone with no one but the monster, and realized that I understood very well how lonely she had been. And she hadn't even had the bad company of the monster.

She slowly looked up at me and took a deep sniffley breath, trying not to cry. The look on her face was pathetic and broken, without a trace of hate or deceit. I wasn't in danger, so close to her. The monster was no longer plaguing her soul. She was free. But she had left a mountainous wake behind her; it was daunting, but she knew she had to make things right again. She was so worried.

"_I'll walk with you, 11. You have a lot to do, but you don't have to do it on your own."_

"I deserve to have to do it alone. It's my mess, and I should clean it up. I should spend an eternity at it, never fully fixing anything. Maybe I shouldn't be forgiven by anyone. Not my mother, certainly not _your_ mother, not our fathers or our twins… not by anybody. Maybe it would be easier if I just left, just went away and never bothered another living creature again."

"_That's what the monster told me when I failed at killing 0 the second time. It stopped telling me that I was completely right. Instead, it told me that I was worthless and that I deserved banishment more than death. It drove me away to die, alone and scared. And when it saw that I was too weak to be useful anymore, it went away to look for someone else._

"_Running away from our problems is always easier. It's ultimately what I chose when I ran away. But it doesn't solve anything. All it does is make you regret everything you ran away from. Getting up and facing your problems is always scary; but if you just do it, you can move on. You can still make this right. If you truly want to be forgiven, you can do it."_

"I do really want to be forgiven."

"_Then you can do it. And I'll help you."_

She sighed slowly. "…I still can't understand why you would want to do this for _me_, after all we've been through. But I would be happy to have your help… And your forgiveness." She looked at me hard for a moment, invisible tears starting to fall. "3….. I am _so_ sorry for everything I've done. I—I feel like there should be more, but—"

"_That's all there needs to be. I know that you're sorry, and I accept your apology. I forgive you."_

I had never seen her smile before. Even as she continued to cry, she gave me the purest, most thankful smile I've ever seen. She finally had a scrap of hope to cling to: if I could forgive her so willingly, so gladly, maybe the rest of our family could, as well.

"I think I can go out there now," she said quietly, brushing her scarlet hair out of her eye, only for it to fall right back in place.

"_Then let's go,"_ I gently insisted, daring to take her by the hand and pull her off the bed. She willingly followed, though she was sluggish from lying still for…probably about as long as I had, I realized. When she stood up he legs wobbled a little, even. And I had been bracing myself to face a minotaur—she reminded me more of a lamb, now.

"_Oh, I should warn you, your brother's in the tunnel somewhere."_

She gulped nervously and sighed. "I have to face him personally, sometime. Better like this, when I can't get away from him. He's my twin, after all."

We walked back into the hallway, and saw 12 almost at once, waiting anxiously for something to happen. But he must not have expected 11 and I to walk out together, with e leading her by the hand, because he looked impossibly surprised. He looked up and stared at us for a moment, words failing him.

Sensing it was up to her to end the awkward silence, 11 steeled herself and stepped forward, bravely holding her head up and looking him in the eye.

"…12… Is there any miracle by which you can forgive me?"

He paused for a long second, processing this. But it got through quickly. He sprang forward and enveloped her in a hug from which there was no escape. All of a sudden, he was crying tears of joy.

"That's all I want is to forgive you," he sobbed into her shoulder. "I've wanted to for so long… But I wasn't sure if you wanted it."

I stood back from them and allowed them their moment, still a little amazed that 11 was crying—and so hard, now. But after a minute, she straightened herself.

"Are mother and father still awake?" she asked.

"Do you want to speak to them?"

"Yes. After all this time… I am ready."

Standing on either side of her, holding her hands in our own, we walked with her back to the den. When we walked into the light, the grownups didn't notice us at first. And then they all looked up and saw us, a most unusual sight, indeed. 14 jumped up from where she had been sitting, joy fluttering behind her surprise to see her daughter again.

11 hesitated, not sure where to begin. But I remembered how papa had given me a head start, when I had returned from the study. I gently nudged her forward, farther into the room.

"_Everyone, 11 has something she'd like to say."_

Well, there was no escape now. She bravely took a few steps into the light, facing her mother first of all.

"…Mother… I wanted… I'm just…"

She stopped stammering and hung her head, humiliated and hurt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, tears falling once again.

14 regarded her with the same wonder as I had. This wasn't the 11 she had known and raised. She was _visibly_ a completely different person. It was as if she had spent all her life as an ugly, poisonous caterpillar, and had morphed over a few nights into a soft, delicate butterfly—her real self.

12 and I could see it, and 14 clearly saw it as well. After only a moment's hesitation, she pulled 11 close and held her tightly.

"Oh, my darling girl," she breathed, invisible tears of joy flowing down her face. "After all these years, you've come home!"

"I've been gone for so long, and I'm sorry," 11 sobbed, snuggling into her mother's embrace. "I've been so far away, and I let that monster stand in my place all this time, but it's gone! I'm never leaving again, I promise!"

"I believe you, I believe you,"14 insisted, rocking her child back and forth. "I've missed you so much, but I could never make myself see…"

11 looked up at her, pulling herself together enough to speak clearly. "I couldn't see it, either. Mum… I want to be a part of this family again. I'm done with only thinking about what I want. I want to really thing about what our family needs from me. It made me think I was useless, and there was nothing I could do to change that. But I see now. I see now, and I'm ready. Please, help me."

Before 14 could answer, 13 had come up behind them and thrown his arms around them both, holding them safe and sound.

"Of course we'll help you, child," he said gently. "We all will."

She gripped his arm and looked at him earnestly. "Father… All the things, everything I did… If I could undo them all—"

He silenced her, shaking his head. "What has been done cannot be undone. All we can do now is have hope, and move forward. And we shall do this together."

"I am _so_ sorry for everything I've done."

He ran his fingers over her face with a loving smile. "Now that you are home, we can give you our forgiveness."

Unable to hold back anymore, 12 glommed onto them.

"We're all here for you, sis."

Remaining silent and sturdy as always, 15 joined them last, towering over them. After all the years they had spent in denial and pain, the Dekas were a real family again. It wasn't me that they had needed to heal them, after all. What they had needed all along was each other.

Papa came and stood beside me, grinning down at me proudly.

"Sometimes you are more like me than your brother, always rushing into danger when everyone else says there's no point," he said, patting my head. "And maybe that's a good thing."

And all I could do—needed to do—was smile back.

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Author's Notes…

School is the main reason it has taken so long to finish this chapter. That and more sentimentality. But the good grades I have garnered from sticking to school first have been very worth it.

MADE THE DEAN'S LIST! 8D

This story is almost finished, can you believe it? Only one or two more chapters to go, I think. Given my workload, I have no idea when the next one will be ready. Soon… ish… I hope. :/


	22. Chapter 21: The New Year

Chapter 21: The New Year

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For the first time in a very long time, things were perfectly the way they were supposed to be. Especially with the company of our newfound family, things couldn't have possibly been better. I had brothers again; my wife had a sister of her own; and my children had cousins to play with. It was amazing: there were more than nine of us for the first time, and we were all together in one place. That had never happened before. The new year was off to an excellent start.

It was surreal to think that the Dekas had been just as broken as us Primes. Somewhere, forgotten in a corner, they had been grappling with the same problems that we had, sort of at the same time. How much help could we have been to each other while all of this was going on? We had needed each other, and one hadn't known the other had even existed.

But that was over and done. We had each other now, and we were all healing beautifully from everything that had happened over the winter—and even over the last several years. And we would continue this. As soon as 3 was strong enough to travel again, all ten of us were going back to the library for the spring and summer. 13 and 15 had laughed in my face to hear how badly prepared my castle was to deal with the harshness of winter. I couldn't have stopped them from returning with us if I had wanted to. They were experienced Highlanders, used to dealing with the long, hard winter months. They could help us.

The children didn't quite have the sense to be grateful for their uncle's offer to help us—they would be sticking close to their cousins, and that's what mattered to them. But 7 and I wanted to do something to thank the Dekas for their help. But they seemed to have everything he wanted or needed. Shopping for them turned out to be difficult.

As 3 continued to heal and get stronger, 11 surprised us all every day. Her family said they had never seen her in such good form. She was suddenly so… pleasant. In a matter of days, I could no longer believe that she could have _killed_ her own sister. She had changed so much, and in so little time. And 3 was the only one of us who wasn't completely shocked by this; I supposed he understood better than any one of us what had happened to her. One day, I overhead him discussing it with 4 in their flicker-speak.

"_I guess you were right about her,"_ she was saying. _"She really __did__change overnight."_

"_I told you so. If me and 1 could change so quickly, I knew she could, as well. All she needed was a chance."_

"_1 and __I__, you mean."_

"_Yeah, that."_

It sounded like they had had this discussion a lot. And it struck a chord in me. It occurred to me to really wonder about 1 for the first time, what he would have been like if he were still alive. 3 was right—in the last few moments of his life, 1 had been very different from who he had always been. That change of heart had come slowly; but when it finally came, it had happened in the blink of an eye. I had missed seeing it entirely, only realizing that it had happened at all when it was too late.

His basic personality didn't merit general pleasantness… But perhaps he wouldn't have minded being a part of us, if he were still alive and changed. Perhaps he and I could have been… friends, eventually? That seemed like a lot to hope for. But 11 was getting along. She was recovering beautifully from whatever had ailed her all those years. If she could do it, I felt sure that 1 could have done it, as well. He would have liked her…

I talked a lot with 3 about what had happened to him, about the mysterious and insidious thing he and 11 has grappled with for so long. He was finally able to put it into words, describing it as a monster that overcame him when he least expecting it. He had tried in the past to subdue it on his own, only to discover that he could only do so much against it alone. And he found this disconcerting as well as comforting.

"_Now that I'm aware of it, I know that it can come back and try to take me again. But I know that I can't force it away without help,"_ he explained one day, as we walked together outside, discussing it. _"It's strong, and its sneaky, and it's always caught me off my guard. I knew the whole time in the back of my mind that you could help me, but the monster insisted that I didn't need your help, and convinced me to keep it to myself. _

"_Papa, if it ever comes back and overtakes me again, will you please catch me and help me fight it next time?"_

"Of course I will," I agreed right away, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. "Do you think it will come back?"

"_I don't know. I don't know if I can ever tell when it will strike, and that's really scary."_

"You don't have to be afraid of that monster, 3. I'll watch your back, and I _will_ catch you if you fall."

"_Really?"_

"3, I'm your papa. It's what I'm here to do."

It so was unimaginably good to have my son back. I had been so sure for months that I would never see him alive again. It had been a weight that nearly crushed my soul, and left me with no hope to look forward to. And the idea that I would still have to find him—search out his body and bring him home to be laid to rest… I remembered that moment vividly, when that thought had first occurred to me. I had been sick for hours.

But here he was, alive, against all odds. Perhaps, after all that had already happened to us, I should have known better than to despair. Still, seeing him here, talking to him, holding him close… Between watching for the monster and just being overwhelmingly glad that he was alive, he was never leaving my sight again. He didn't _want_ to leave my sight again.

I hadn't failed as a parent. He had momentarily failed as a person, but he was getting back up to try again. And I would be right there to help him, every step of the way. We all would be, and we would be there for 11, as well. Being there to help them, watching them getting stronger every day was like waking to a new miracle every morning. They were recovering from so many things, and so wonderfully. It was glorious to behold.

Only a week or two later, we finally found ourselves ready to head out. We Primes had brought so little with us, it literally took us a matter of minutes to pull ourselves together. But the Dekas insisted on bringing all their tools along with them. I watched, besmused, as 12 emptied shelves, drawers, and boxes of things he thought might be useful from his room. Handmade wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, pliers, tangled bundles of copper wire—all made their way into one or two packs he had, until he could barely stand while carrying them both.

"But I need everything I've packed!" he insisted when we laughed at him. "I was going to rewire their entire home, like ours. It was going to be great!"

"Perhaps that is a project for next year," 15 suggested. "First, we have to see to all the holes in their roof."

12 reluctantly agreed that first things had to come first, and found himself paring down his supplies. 4 thought it was adorable.

"_He's so cute when he's handy like that,"_ she giggled. _"He reminds me of you, papa."_

All I could do was roll my eyes, still not sure what I was supposed to do with her. My only daughter had a crush… It was strange to think that I would have to face that, like when 7 had been so unstable during the winter. I had always wondered what it would be like to have to brave it, and fully willing to, but never truly prepared to see it happen. I wasn't sure what to do.

At the same time, though, it made me smile. She was so happy, and so unusually girly and giggly. She reminded me of her mother, in that way. And, even if it made me uneasy as a father, something about it seemed sort of natural to me. I was happy for her, that she had found someone to care about in that way. As much as I had hoped to avoid this—for sentimental reason that I couldn't explain—I had feared that my children would never know what it felt like. I was glad that love had found her.

But I was also glad that they were only children, and that marriage would never be an option. Hopefully, their romance would indefinitely remain the way it was, innocent and sweet, the way it ought to be.

The day we left the burrow was warm and sunny. The last traces of snow had finally melted away, and the world was brighter green than ever before. Vines and weeds had sprung up to wind their way around anything they could find. Telephone poles, brick walls, rotting wooden fences—none of them were safe from the overgrowth. In a few years, it would be as if humanity had never existed.

As we walked back to the library, I watched our whole new clan with pride. This bright, shining new year found us looking better than ever before. 13 had his arm around 11's shoulder, just talking with her as they walked. 0 bounced around in all directions, picking every weed and wildflower he could find, and bringing them back to us as gifts. 7 and 14 had huge bunches in hand before long, but they gladly accepted new ones every few minutes. Slightly ahead of us, 12 and 4 walked hand-in-hand with 3 at their side, chatting like good friends. 15 walked silently beside me, watching the rest of them as contentedly as I did.

"You must be a very happy man," he commented after a time.

"I've never been this happy before," I agreed.

"We've all lost so much recently," he continued. "Yet we've suddenly gained so much at the same time. And there is much still to be gained in the months to come."

"You're excited."

He grinned. "It's hard to tell from the outside, is it not? Alas, inside I am singing and dancing like a child."

"So am I. Perhaps, when we get back, I _will_ sing and dance with my children."

"That has the makings of an excellent plan," he agreed. "I fully intend to join you in that."

It was hard to believe how hopeless we had been, even a week or two ago. There was nothing but hope ahead of us, now. A while later, when we were nearly home again, 7 came up beside me and took my hand in her free one—her other hand was busy with an impressive bunch of flowers.

"I finally figured it out," she announced, almost at a whisper.

"Figured out what?" I whispered back.

"What we should do for 13 and 14, to thank them."

"Really? What did you have in mind?"

She gave me a bright, sweet smile. "We should loan them the Source."

"What for?" I asked, instinctively alarmed.

"9, they lost their baby," she said with sympathetic look. "There is a physical hole in their family, and they had hoped that 3 could fill it…"

She shook her head sadly. "They had always known that would never really happen. They had tried, but they couldn't live with themselves, knowing they had filled that hole with someone else's child."

I understood.

"They want to make a new baby, like we did."

"It would mean a lot to them, now that they know it can be done."

"I think that's a great idea," I smiled. "As soon as we've settled down, we'll show them the book, and teach them what to do."

"And soon, we'll have another little one running around. Then 0 will have a friend his own size. They'll both like that, I think."

"Just one more piece of our ever-growing puzzle," I commented thoughtfully. "I wonder what it will look like, if it is ever completed…?"

"We'll find out, one day," she answered, snuggling against me. "But for now, let's just enjoy things the way they are right now. It will change soon enough."

So we walked in happy silence for a bit, enjoying the warm sunshine and the sight of our family together. I couldn't think of how things could possibly be any more perfect. The year was brand new, and there were so many possibilities, so much promise. For certain, things would be even better soon.

"Happy New Year, my sweet," she said, gently kissing my face.

"Happy New Year, indeed."

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Author's Notes…

Only the epilogue remains, can you believe it? 8D

Stay tuned, for the heartfelt conclusion!


	23. Epilogue: Two Homes, One Family

Epilogue…

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The library had never been in better repair since we had lived in it. Especially the globe. By the time summer rolled back around, we had patched all its larger holes and most of the smaller ones. We even found the means to convert many of those smaller holes into windows. The work we got done over those months was impressive.

But it was obvious that we could never repair the building enough for a suitable winter stronghold. Not long after we had returned and my brothers had taken a look around, they had shaken their heads sadly. There was entirely no way to fix the cracks in the walls or the holes in the roof. We could make minor, necessary repairs, but the library would never keep us safe during a blizzard.

"However," 15 had pointed out, "our underground burrow has never been the best place to spend a summer, either. Heat is trapped below with us, and there is no circulation. This wide, open library, with all its holes and flaws, is an excellent summer retreat."

"And your underground burrow is the safest place to spend a long winter," I had added, seeing where he was going.

"Then it sounds like we shall be heading back to the north, in the fall," 13 concluded merrily, glad that we would be staying together for the foreseeable future. "And when we do return, we shall be one more strong."

Indeed, we would be. Their progress was a little slower than ours had been, even with the aid of _Annuls of Peracelcus_; but, over the summer months, we all watched with pride and joy as 13 and 14 built their baby. She was to be nothing extravagant; but to her parents, she was a glorious treasure from the moment they began working on her. It was like watching 0 take shape all over again. And 14 was happy to carry her daughter safely inside her, just like 7 had, uncomplaining and proud.

20 was made of brown calico, the same as her parents. But she was the first Deka to not have black hair. Instead, they found a scrap of yellow fabric in the ruins and carefully stitched it to the top of her head. For her fastening, 7 happily recalled the pink buttons she had found, before we had decided that 0 would be a boy. Her little fingers and toes were made of gleaming brass. Everything about her was brown, pink and gold. Like with 0, she was perfectly precious before she was even alive.

They had chosen the name 20 after several days of consideration. But they decided that the other two small children we had had were round tens, so their baby should be, as well. And so, her name was 20.

It was sometime in early June, we think, that 7 and I led them to the first room to animate her. Before we even went inside, they could feel the pall that loomed over the house.

"This was your home," 13 commented in solemn awe. But to this, 7 shook her head.

"This was _never_ my home," she answered. "It's the place where I was born, and where my children were born, and nothing else."

The Dekas didn't need much more than that to understand. Whatever healthy, understanding relationship they might have had with their creator, we had only a hole where ours should have been. It had been so long since I had thought of him at all—a little more than a year. It was so easy to forget that he had even existed once.

We led them up the stairs in silence. There wasn't much to look at, as always; but it seemed that another layer of dust and dirt formed over everything each time we returned. And 14 weathered the trip remarkably. The marvel of pregnancy hadn't worn her out like it had done to 7. When I pointed this out, they both laughed.

"Everyone's different," 14 remarked sweetly, gently patting her filled out belly.

"I'm glad it's been kinder to her," 7 added. "It was a trouble I would wish on no one else."

These women—they never ceased to impress me. How did they do all these things?

When we reached the fourth floor and headed for the first room, 7 suddenly broke away from us and wandered toward the bedroom across the hall.

"We could probably use the dumbwaiter again, to get back down," she called over her shoulder, and then vanished without another word, leaving me alone to help the Dekas set up the Source and its trappings once again.

I didn't begrudge her that. I didn't really want to touch the things, myself. But I was the one who understood them best, and she dutifully stayed out of it. While I helped them set the contraptions up again, we heard the creaking and groaning of the dumbwaiter across the hall. But 7 didn't return, even long after the noise faded away.

"Will she not join us for this?" 14 asked, concerned.

"No," I answered. "She's seen enough of this to last her whole life."

"Is it that terrible?"

"Yes, but it is worth it," I said with a smile.

It felt nothing but strange, having to stand to the side and watch the Source take their souls—one small fraction from each of them. I had never seen two at the same time, two ribbons of green energy flowing from the eyeholes of the mask, to be pulled into the talisman and projected out the other side as one. There was nothing I could do, or was supposed to do.

At the same time, though, it wasn't like watching the thing kill someone. That had been horrific, heartbreaking. I had thought if felt different when I had done this last year, not like it was trying to take my life entirely. And it hadn't hurt, like I had been sure it would; instead of even tugging or pulling, the Source had led that tiny piece of my soul by the hand.

I had wondered what it might look like… But I had never dreamed I would have to _actually_ see it.

When the thing finished its work and they fainted, I wasn't so worried; I had recalled this, and left a pillow on the floor to catch them. There was nothing I could do to catch them, myself. In the meantime, I cut 20 down from the amplifier myself—my old knife was still where I had left it from last year, when I had done the same with 0.

It felt strange to me, handling her before her parents. What a marvelous doctor I had become…

And so, as well as productive, that summer was as much an adventure as the previous one. With two little ones running around—thick as thieves, as we had hoped they would be—everyone had to be on their toes. But it was a good, happy summer for all of us. Especially, we all noted, for 11. With no trace of the monster that had possessed her for long, she became a marvelous older sister. She surprised even herself when she realized that a kindhearted, attentive and patient person had lain dormant beneath that ugliness, unknown for all that time.

"She's never been so happy," 15 commented. "That thing had held her captive for as long as I've known her; I had given up hope that she could ever change. But now… I barley recognize her anymore. As her uncle, I am unendingly proud."

One morning, as the sun rose over the ruins, we were all woken by an unusual and unexpected sound outside. It was like the singing of… birds? Yes, indeed. The first flock of small songbirds had flown into the city, making themselves right at home, as we had. None of us were as overjoyed by their return as 7 was. She had dreamed of that day for so long. Over a night and a dear, her deepest, dearest wish had suddenly come true.

And surely the birds were only the beginning.

"_Where there are birds, there will be cats soon, at least,"_ 4 had pointed out ominously.

_And where there are cats, there will be dogs to chase after them,"_ 3 continued. _"They love to chase cats."_

"_And where there are dogs __and__ cats, there are sure to humans to catch them eventually."_

To all this, 7 huffed indignantly. "No cat is catching any of these birds on _my _watch. I won't allow it."

Anyway, the day that any humans wandered into these treacherous ruins was probably a long way off. Maybe even years, still. But that suited us perfectly. The city would be ours to rule over for a long time to come.

When the seasons began to change from blazing hot summer back into fall, we moved back to the north early. The Dekas were anxious to see that we were prepared for winter, when it came. It took them all the time they could get to make sure they were ready, when the blizzards blew in every year. And 20 had never before seen the burrow where her brother and sister had grown up. But she had never weathered a winter like the rest of us had, and didn't understand why we were leaving the only home she knew she had.

"Why do we have to leave?" she insisted as we walked back. "I like our home just fine!"

"You wouldn't like it when the winter storms roll in," 13 explained to her. "We all love our home in the library, but it isn't a safe place to be during a blizzard. Your uncle, aunt and cousins will all tell you that."

"That's right," 0 chimed in. "Snow is icky! I hate it! It's cold and wet, and it makes mama cry!"

"Don't frighten her, baby," 7 said quickly, changing the subject. "When it snows again, 20 will decide for herself."

"But it's true, mama. You cried and cried all the time. You hated it, too."

"_Maybe_, it won't be so bad this year," she insisted, silently imploring him to stop focusing on how much she had cried that winter. "And remember, we say 'as well', not 'too'. It's irreverent _as well_ confusing."

"Oh yeah…."

We had all changed a lot. But there were still some things we Primes simply weren't ready to move past yet. We had explained it to the Dekas before, and they understood plainly. There were still a few things in their own history they couldn't put aside yet, either. Perhaps only time and more adventures could cure that. Perhaps they could never be cured at all.

0 and 20 couldn't understand this. These silly-sounding but sensitive spots had become a part of who we were. They had shaped the way we lived our lives every day. But we had been there to see those terrible things happen. We wouldn't have wished our little ones to be a part of any of that, but they would never understand why we did some things the way we did, out of pains that might never mend.

Bless their small hearts, they tried to figure it out. Whenever an opportunity arose and they asked hard questions, there was never a particularly gentle, easy way to explain it. How was I born? What was it like? What else do those buttons do? Where are the missing numbers? What happens to your soul when it dies? Will you have to die? Will mum have to die? Will _I_ have to die? When? How? Tell me! I wanna know!

They are so very small, and they will never get bigger than they are. No matter how many questions they ask and how many answers we give them, they will probably never understand. And frankly, we don't mind. 0 and 20 will remain young and innocent forever, the way we made them to be. No matter what else may change, they, at least, will remain the same. At the end of the day, all they need to know is that they always have us to guide and protect them from danger, and to love them.

They don't need to understand what it means to love someone like we love them. All they know is that we do, and that they love us, as well. They've said themselves they don't know why they love us so much—they just _do_. They are so full of love; it comes so naturally to them. We can't ruin it by trying to explain how complicated it really is. Maybe we need more people who just act on it, instead of understanding it.

The year drew to a close once again, as it always did, and the world was blanketed in another ocean of snow. But this time, we were all safe in our new winter home. Yes, the burrow was more crowded than ever before; but we preferred thinking of it as cozy. With so many of us so close together, it was never cold inside for a second. After the disaster that had been the last winter, even 7 didn't mind the limited space. Cabin fever still got the better of her sometimes, forcing her out into the snow; but she found that she didn't mind it so much, in moderation.

"It _is_ almost pretty, this way," she commented one day when she came back in. "Only five minutes at a time, though. It is _not_ my favorite thing in the world."

One night, I was putting my own three children to bed—in the room that was once 10's, but was now definitely theirs. Though 0 and 4 were asleep in a few seconds, 3 stopped me suddenly before I turned out the light.

"_This winter is a lot better than the last one, huh, papa?"_

"I can't begin to say," I agreed.

"_I just thought of something,"_ he continued. _"There's this story I remember from a long time ago; 2 read it to us, out of a Bible in the church."_

"Oh really?" I asked, amused that he was telling _me_ a bedtime story, for a change.

"_There was a father who had two sons that he loved very much. But the younger son ran away and made a mess of his whole life, and nearly died because of his mistakes. Even though he knew his father would never forgive him, he decided to return home. He knew that he wasn't worthy to be anyone's son; but he thought maybe his father might hire him, and he'd at least have a job and a healthy life again."_

"So what happened when the son went home?"

3 smiled. _"His father saw him coming from a long way off, and __ran__ to meet him. The son begged forgiveness, but he didn't really expect it… But his father welcomed him home. He even threw a party to celebrate his return! The lost son was a part of the family again."_

"That is a wonderful story."

"_There's a little more, though,"_ he went on, his face falling a little. _"There was an older son, remember? He had stayed faithfully with their father all that time. And when he came home and found out that his brother had returned, and their father had thrown a big party for him, the older son was mad."_

"Why?"

"_Because his brother had behaved so badly, and made so many mistakes, and their father had __rewarded__ him for coming back. But the older son had stayed, and been so good and worked so hard, and his father had never celebrated his work like that before. The older son was really angry about that."_

"What did their father say about that?"

"_That it was right to celebrate the younger son's return. He had been lost; but then he saw that all the things he had done were wrong. And instead of giving up hope, he came home and asked forgiveness."_

"It takes a lot of courage to do something like that. I think we should celebrate the things we've lost and found again, maybe more than the things we already have."

"_We're kinda like that father and son, aren't we, papa?"_

Aha…

"We sure are, son," I agreed, patting his head. "We sure are."

"_Do you think that 4 was ever mad at me, like the older brother who stayed with his father?"_

"No," I answered, shaking my head. "She was just as happy to see you safe as the rest of us were. She was never mad at you like that. She missed you so much, and she worried about you all the time; she could barely speak, all that time you were gone. The older brother surely missed his lost brother, just the same. When we lose something precious, we always hope we'll find it again."

He smiled again, and yawned. _"I love you, papa."_

"And I love you, son," I answered, leaning over and kissing his forehead. "Now go on to sleep, and dream of the springtime."

"_And cats,"_ he added, shutting his eyes. _"I've always liked cats…"_

And in seconds, he was fast asleep, most assuredly dreaming of cats. He had always dreamed pleasantly, and in color, no matter what might have been going on in his waking life. No monster would keep him down, now. It didn't dare come back, while I was there to guard him. I walked out, turning off the lights, leaving my children with their dreams.

I walked quietly down the hall to my own room—and old storage room that 7 and I had cleaned out and claimed for ourselves. She was already in bed, waiting for me; when I climbed under the blanket, she snuggled up safely beside me.

"Any plans for the spring?" she asked sleepily, only half awake.

"Not really," I answered, wrapping my arms around her. "There's still plenty to do. As long as we're all together, I'm sure we'll stay busy."

"We'll figure it out, then," she mumbled into my shoulder. "We always do."

"We will, my love," I agreed, hugging her close. "We certainly will."

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Author's Notes…

And here we are, about six months from where we started, and another epic is complete! I've never wrapped one up so fast!

A particular thank you to the following peeps, who followed me every step of the way:

Barn Owl Girl—my number one fan, an excellent addition to the fandom, and always a most cheery presence in my life. For more fun, check out her epics, _10_, _Seven Days_, and her work-in-progress, _Deception_. All are terrific!

PoppyECM.6-13—the apparent ringleader of my British groupies, a delightfully manic young lady. We need more spirits like hers in the world in general. She and her gang are a ton of fun; they have a C2 community, a collection of the fandom's silly oneshots. Check it out!

Thomas Holmes II—my brother in Christ, and a highly intellectual young man. Our discussions on Christian symbolism as seen in 9—and in this very fic—are worthy of publication, I believe. He has a 9/Sonic the Hedgehog crossover in the works, which I can't wait to read.

MoonPhantom9—kinda lost them, at some point… Notorious for leaving great reviews. I miss seeing them in my inbox. :'(

And also, thank you to the 500-plus folks around the world have been following this story so faithfully. I decided to check the traffic stats on this story, and WOW WAS I AMAZED!

YOU LIKE ME! YOU REALLY, REALLY LIKE ME! 8D

To commemorate the completion of _Prodigal_, I have officially opened up anonymous reviews to all the folks who would like to review, but are unable to because I've had the option locked up. There are so many of you have clearly enjoyed this story—it would be wasteful to leave your comments unheard.

Leave your comments, flames, and praises if you will. I look forward to reading them all! Thank you, thank you, everyone!

—Freida L. Right


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